


All is Not As it Seems

by Anonymous



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Statetalia
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Childbirth, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Mpreg, Teen Pregnancy, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-16
Updated: 2011-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 73,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23642194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Request: A nation finally does the math and realizes that America had to have been really, really, alarmingly, unacceptably young when his oldest states (then colonies) were born. He/she confronts America about it, and America either flashbacks to it or actively tells the tale.
Relationships: America & Canada (Hetalia), America/England (Hetalia), America/Netherlands (Hetalia), Various America Ships
Comments: 25
Kudos: 50
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

At the time of Hawaii's statehood, Canada hadn't seen or heard from his little brother for months, and if he'd been scared before now, that was _nothing_ on what he felt when he got a phone call from Japan, asking if he knew where America was.  
  
Canada was family, so if something was wrong, he would have been informed. This aloofness must be voluntary--calling America's boss would give Canada no help. He tried calling America's states, but half of them mistook Canada for America over the phone and launched into furious complaints about their neighboring siblings. The others toyed with Canada, telling him their father was at such-and-such place or so-and-so's home. He must've made thirty calls before he caught onto their scheme, and he was so annoyed, he dropped the search for his brother, because if the states found it fine to play pranks on their uncle (and in the case of some of them, their other father) it wasn't likely that anything was amiss.  
  
So after another six weeks of waiting, when Canada got a phone call from his brother one morning, demanding to know why Canada hadn't visited America's new baby, Canada was more angered than relieved.  
  
"Where have you been?!"  
  
"That's a no, then? Some uncle you're turning out to be!"  
  
"You didn't answer my question. You took off without a word! I was worried about you!"  
  
"You're not my mother." There was an abrupt pause, then a clacking noise, like America had set the phone down on a counter or tabletop. Canada could hear something going on in the background, but wasn't sure what it was. Then as quickly as he'd went away, America was back on the line. "But seriously, Canada, it's a lot easier for you to come see me than it is for me to go see you, with me having one kid under a year old and another not even two months."  
  
A little calmer now, Canada asked, "If I visit you, will you explain what you've been up to since I've seen you last?"  
  
"Oh, that? I went somewhere. Stayed with someone. I'm sworn to secrecy over it, so I can't tell you anything."  
  
Canada glared at the phone, considering screaming into it at his brother. "Are you all right, at least?"  
  
"I'm fine! Alaska's fine, Hawaii's fine--she's gotten really cute now! All the bruising has healed up, I can take her places and people fall all over themselves, complimenting her."  
  
"Wait. Did you hold out on calling me because you were waiting for your kid to start looking cute?" He knew first-hand how bruised America's babies got, during delivery, and how it took weeks for them to heal up. Why in the world would that suddenly be an issue?  
  
America laughed obnoxiously. "I'll see you soon!"  
  
"I didn't say I was--"  
  
The line went dead.  
  
***  
  
Because he was still worried, Canada gave in to America's demand, getting on the first flight he could finagle that day, and using every trick he had as a country to reach America's place. It was the next afternoon when he got into the state where America's first and main home was, and as he sat through a taxi ride, trying not to fall asleep, Canada felt about ready to kill his brother.  
  
He was in the middle of collecting enough of the right currency to pay the driver when America attacked him from behind, hugging Canada in a mighty squeeze. "Mattie!" he shouted into Canada's ear, because the driver was still there and they didn't use real names in front of citizens.  
  
"Please stop squishing me. I need to pay the driver."  
  
America loosened his grip on Canada enough for Canada to hand over payment--the driver was giving them a strange look--but he didn't actually let go.  
  
As the taxi drove off, Canada was dragged into the house.

"I left Alaska in his playpen, but I'm not sure how long that'll hold him, he's sort of walking around, or trying to, and he's been making that thing--"

A crashing came from another room.

"--topple over so he can get out," America finished. He released Canada and rushed off.

Canada momentarily stood still, feeling the start of a headache, and wished he had stayed home.

***

He was able to beg off immediately visiting with Alaska and meeting Hawaii by pointing out just how much trouble it had been for him to get here this fast, and America shrugged and led Canada to a guest room.

As Canada lay on the bed, halfway between slumber and wakefulness, a thought hit him: America had fifty kids now.

In less than two hundred years.

"...how old was he when he had Virginia?"

The potential answer to this disturbed him so much that he was amazed he was even able to fall asleep.

***

After napping for a few hours, Canada's headache was averted, but he was still troubled over the subject of America's firstborn.

He found America in the living room, wrestling with little Alaska. The baby, Hawaii, was asleep, stomach-first on the couch.

"You're awake!" America had been trying to get a tiny pair of red pants on his son, but Alaska was putting up extreme resistance. At the sight of Canada, he stopped struggling, staring up at the nation with innocent blue eyes.

"Uh, yeah...so...this baby is Japan's?" Canada kneeled by the couch, tilting his head to better study the baby. She had pudgy cheeks, hair that stood on end, and pouty lips. Canada rubbed her back with his fingertips. "She's really cute!"

"I told you so." America succeeded in getting pants on Alaska, then let him wobble off.

"So..." Canada said.

"So," America said back.

"The reason you brought me here...?"

"I was bored."

Canada stared. "You...were...bored."

"Did you think Alaska and Hawaii were good conversationalists?"

Why was he even surprised? He knew America, he knew how America's method of operating worked--he should have expected to be invited here for completely trivial reasons. Canada went back to massaging Hawaii's tiny back, because this composed him and gave him less of an urge to go off at his brother. "Hey," he said, now remembering, "how old were you when you had Virginia?"

"Really young." America pulled over a laundry basket and started sorting through the clothing it held. It was all baby clothes.

"No, really. How old were you?"

"I'm not playing around. I'm not sure what my exact age was! At that time, I only ever knew what date it was when England was around. I know it was before the first time Netherlands visited me alone."

This was worse than he'd imagined. "You were really young then. Like, as in, little kid."

"Good thing I'm not human."

"That doesn't make it better!" He said this more loudly than he'd intended and he quickly looked down at Hawaii, hoping he hadn't woken her. She snuffled, shifted a little under his hand, and kept sleeping.

"How does that make it worse?" America asked, not getting Canada's outrage on his behalf. "I hit a growth spurt after the one time with England."

"England did you when you were a kid?!" How could he speak so calmly of this?

"He was really drunk. I didn't want him to leave again, so I thought if I could give him what France was giving him, he'd be happier with me and stay." America's voice remained casual, but he was twisting the fabric of the pastel onesie in his hands, rather than folding it to add to the pile of clothing he was working on. "It...didn't really work."

"I would hope not," Canada snapped.

"He was really horrified, after he sobered up. He said it was better if he wasn't around me, if he couldn't even control himself, and then...I didn't see him again for years."

"And what was Netherlands's excuse?"

"...I had a visitor and I didn't want him to leave?" Taking Canada's horror to be condemnation, America got defensive. "Hey, I was alone in this big house all the time! Do you have any idea how scary that is, when you're that young? You know I'm a people person, and having one child didn't make me feel less alone!"

There was a whimper from the couch--they'd woken Hawaii. Looking almost relieved by this interruption, America scooped up the baby, cuddling her close.  
  
Canada helplessly watched his brother, disgusted with himself for never having once asked about this, or doing the math for himself and coming to the obvious. And what of England and Netherlands? Why was it alright for them to use America, then leave him, and let _him_ deal with the repercussions for _their_ wrongdoing?  
  
He got to his feet, and walked over to America, who looked up in surprise as he was tightly hugged. Appearing slightly unclear over what this was about, America nevertheless welcomed the affection, since it was rare that he didn't have to initiate intimacy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: underage sex, dubious consent to said sex (one character is drunk and the other is underage), and graphic descriptions of childbirth

America had fantasized long and hard on what could convince his guardian to never again leave, but it was only on a night when England came back from the nearest town, drunker than the colony had ever seen him, that America found the nerve to act on the one thing he suspected would work.  
  
He crawled into England's bed after the country had sprawled out there.  
  
England thought America was being his usual affectionate self. "America, you're such a good child," he slurred, his arms wrapping around the colony. "All day, I just thought about you and wanted to come home to you."  
  
This was the sort of thing America _loved_ hearing, but what he was about to do had him too keyed up to appreciate the compliment; he had to offer _some_ sort of bribe to keep England here. England would never go for this in normal circumstances. If America had learned anything from eavesdropping on his guardian, it was that the country was a huge pervert, and if England was getting sex _here_ , he'd have everything he needed! There'd be no reason to ever go! He wouldn't even need to be around those other nations he so disliked.  
  
England had other ideas, or was just too drunk to cooperate with America's amateur attempts. "Will you hold still?" he mumbled, brushing away America's hands. "I want to sleep."  
  
America was getting impatient. "We don't _have_ to sleep."  
  
"Well, very well, you don't have to sleep, go do something else if you're not tired." The country still believed America's actions were innocent.  
  
But it's hard to assume innocence of a person who starts kissing your lips while you're both lying in the same bed, and England stiffened in shock at America's advances. It was not until America tried removing England's clothing that the country finally gathered, in his muddled state, that something very wrong was happening. "America, I don't need your help getting my clothes off. I don't even _need_ them off. I'm fine."  
  
Though the colony was a child, he was still stronger than his guardian, and he used this to his advantage now, grabbing England's wrists and keeping him from being able to fend off America. "Pretend I'm France," he said. This pained him. He had thought it would be enough, giving himself to the country.  
  
" _What?_ "  
  
"You like this sort of thing, don't you?"  
  
"Not with _children_! America, you're being absurd and there's no way you can want this. Release me at once."  
  
"No! I don't want you leaving again!" He didn't actually know what to do next, and with England's garbled protests and threats, America was under the impression that none of this was very appealing, but he refused to give up. "I _do_ want this! Why don't _you_?"  
  
"You are a _child_."  
  
With a pout that didn't need to be faked, America said mutinously: "I can go to one of the nations you don't like, for this, if you won't give me what I want."  
  
The bluff prevailed, but what happened next did not feel like a success to the colony--England's fumbling hurt like hell, America had to hold back his tears lest England stop, and afterward, the country passed out while America slipped off to attend to the mess trickling down his legs. It was revolting and he hurt even more now that it was over than he had during the act itself.  
  
People _liked_ doing that?  
  
***  
  
The plan backfired spectacularly. England was so disgusted with himself, that after checking to make sure he hadn't done lasting harm to America (who lied and said England hadn't hurt him), he stayed away from his charge, with the anguished statement that he "was a danger to America!"  
  
America thought England would get over it if he just gave his guardian some space--he _couldn't_ leave, especially now that they'd done _that_ \--so he was in for a daunting blow when England announced, feigning normalcy, that he was leaving again. Immediately.  
  
He _said_ he'd be back, but unlike the other times, England told America to become strong, which he'd never before felt the need to advise. This did not sound promising to America.

***  
  
His whole world was falling apart, with England's departure, and in the aftermath, America went about in a haze, continually telling himself every day, "That's how England _acts_. He's _always_ blustering over one thing or another. He said he'll be back, he can't stay gone."  
  
Only he did. And as America believed his situation to be as downhill as was possible, somehow--things found a way of getting worse.  
  
Sniffling and falling into outright crying fits, America kept the house in order, carrying out everyday routine. A weird, panicky, misery took hold of him. He worked at chores till his hands cramped too much to hold anything. His back seemed to stiffen up and was aching constantly. On days he was busy with activities that required little mobility, his feet hurt as badly as if he'd walked barefoot for days on jagged rocks. He had to have been being careless with how he was handling food, because he was getting sick, usually at night after he'd gotten into bed and had been lying down for a while.  
  
When he started gaining weight, America wasn't too concerned, because he also was getting taller and he figured this was a growth spurt, something he was more than happy to have happen--all the better for when England came back! Except the weight increase was around his stomach only, and that didn't seem right for all the vomiting he'd been doing or how unstable his eating habits had become. As the bloating continued, he didn't stop feeling ill, though he spent less time throwing up. An odd churning kept happening within him, like his stomach had had enough and was turning on him in protest.  
  
All of this went on for so long that America grew used to it.  
  
***  
  
After a particularly distressing day when he'd gotten stupidly upset over being hungry and not wanting to eat anything he had in the house, America ended up in bed early, curling up as best he could with his distended belly getting in the way, overtaken by a backache that was so intense he had been afraid he'd pass out if he stayed on his feet.  
  
Out of exhaustion, he fell asleep. How long, he was not sure, but he woke up shaking and throbbing.  
  
"What...? It's spreading?" Now his stomach was cramping as well, and unsteadily, America got out of bed. He supported himself against the frame, trying to work up the energy to at least leave the room to relieve himself, when he became aware of his nightshirt sticking to his backside. He was too tired and hurting too badly to feel embarrassment over having had an accident, but when he turned around and looked down at the bed, nothing prepared him for the sight of blood on the mattress.  
  
"What...what...how...why is...there's..." He couldn't make sense of this, and his stammering turned to hyperventilating, as terrified, he touched the soiled part of his nightshirt, then looked at his fingers. "...blood? It's coming from _me_."  
  
Lurching forward, America staggered out of the room. Focusing on dealing with the details helped him to not collapse on the floor and scream non-stop from sheer horror till he had no voice left, which was seeming like a great idea, all things considered. "Get out of this shirt. Wipe off the blood. Find out where it's coming from. Clean the bed." How could he be _bleeding_? And so much! Nothing had happened to him, the day before, to cause him to be injured. As he walked throughout the house, he noted his bloodied shirt wasn't getting cold--meaning this blood was still coming. The rawness in his nether regions was overpowering his ability to feel the flow of blood.  
  
Calling to mind some vague idea from England that blood coming from places it shouldn't tended to indicate sure death, America's mind raced. Hadn't England told him anything _useful_ , other than horror stories? "England, where are you?" he whimpered. "If you'd been here, this wouldn't be happening!" Surely, the country could have prevented this!  
  
Only...England had _chosen_ not to be here. Imagining him as some savior would be no help, and more importantly, in wasting time wishing his guardian was here, instead of doing something, America was probably going to wind up dead.

"What am I even _doing_ , trying to find something to clean this mess?" In all likelihood he was shitting blood, and still, he was more concerned over not defiling the furnishings that England was so fond of, which were so useless to America but for which he took care of _because_ they were England's. "This has to be the stupidest thing I've ever done," he fretted, moving on to where the spare bedding was kept. Not to find something to swab up the increasing mess--America grabbed the first thing he saw, and lowered himself to the floor, so he could find out for sure just where the blood was coming from. It took less than a minute to discover this was as bad as he'd been expecting, and renewed fear made him light-headed.  
  
He didn't know how to stop this kind of bleeding. With no idea what else he could do, he pulled more blankets down from the shelves, so at the very least, he wouldn't be in direct contact with the cold, hard floor. As he was crouching, dizziness came over him. He leaned forward, so he was on hands and knees, and his head cleared enough for him to then realize something warm was streaming down his thighs. It wasn't blood.  
  
This was officially the most disgusting thing he'd ever witnessed.  
  
***  
  
Childishly, America hoped if he kept still, the bleeding might stop.  
  
It didn't, of course, and he only got pins and needles from holding himself up. Breathing shallowly, he again leaned forward, stretching his arms ahead in a half-circle till his forehead was resting against the floor. The position was clumsy, but his back hurt less for it, as the pain lowered and settled in his abdomen and haunches. Hands clenching the blankets beneath him, America whimpered as the pain went from prickling and throbbing to searing agony, like his insides were ripping apart of their own accord.  
  
He was sweating and groaning as the tearing sensation intensified. If he was dying of whatever this was, it could at least have the decency to kill him faster, instead of letting the torture linger on. Again, he wanted England--and then America started feeling absolute _rage_. "I'm...spending...my last hours...alone...on a floor...bleeding out," he grunted. Wheezing, he closed his eyes; the fluid kept coming in rushes, he'd lost track of how much was water and how much was blood. Through gritted teeth, America growled, "He's getting an easy out. He's not ever going to know what I'm enduring. God _damn_ you, England!" He had never sworn before in his life. More than anything, America just wanted to make his guardian feel a fragment of the pain he was going through.  
  
As the pain went on without respite, America yowled involuntarily, whenever he could take enough consecutive breaths to make any noise. Why wasn't anything happening? At this point, he'd be _grateful_ to die, if only to have this torment stop!  
  
Then something else _did_ happen, and unbelievably, it was pain beyond everything he'd been through today. Rocking from side to side, America gripped desperately at the blankets. His back spasms returned in full force, to join the tearing agony, as he bled and sweated and gasped for air. There was a burning in his backside. He felt like he was being split open. He couldn't take a full breath, he couldn't scream. Whatever was happening to him was completely out of his control. Shaking so hard he was more convulsing, America pounded his fists on the floor as the horrific burning continued. An incoherent stream of profanity and pleading was going through his mind, and at the point where he was sure his body was going to give out and he'd be dead--everything suddenly ceased. All America was left with was intense throbbing.

Unable to believe it was over, he stayed still and panted, too shaken to try moving just yet.  
  
Just when America felt certain nothing else could terrify him anymore, a high, thin wail filled the air.  
  
***  
  
Like the months prior to this event, the day seemed dedicated to teaching America to never assume a thing or situation had reached fullest potential. Similar to how he'd continually seen how much more of a bad turn _anything_ could take, he found himself observing sights more repulsive than his own body leaking blood and amniotic fluid: a placenta and umbilical cord were _far_ grosser things, to say nothing of _getting out_ the former.  
  
America didn't know how much time had passed since he'd left his bed, and he was so stiff from all his hours on the floor that he couldn't get up to find out. He was only able to drag himself to a sitting position against the nearest wall as he draped a clean sheet around the baby, having presence of mind to tear a strip of fabric and tie off the cord. He stared at the baby in a stupor for who knew how long.  
  
It was not until the child's howls trailed off and it was staring in turn at America, with puffy, light-colored eyes, that the colony began thinking again. His first thought was--how the _hell_ had this thing come out of him, when he wasn't a woman?  
  
The baby was little, squished, and had red and purple mottled skin. It didn't blink at all. It had pale hair like peach fuzz and wore an expression that was distinctly disgruntled. America wiped off the blood and whatever else that was covering the baby's skin using the sheet. He discovered it was a girl. Getting another blanket, America wrapped her securely, then wasn't sure what to do, so he cradled her and let her suck on one of his fingertips. He hadn't seen very many babies up close and she was without a doubt the ugliest living creature he'd ever glimpsed.  
  
Instead of being disgusted, this endeared her to him and made him want to protect her.  
  
***  
  
He felt strangely distanced from the aching of his body.  
  
America was extremely young, and he was naive and impulsive, but he was not stupid. He'd watched enough animals to know how procreation worked. Pregnancy had never been a potential answer to things that could have been wrong with him, these past months, because he was a boy, and it was _women_ who did the childbearing. _Everyone_ knew that.  
  
So either he'd single-handedly changed a law of natural order, or all the nations he knew were information-withholding bastards, and England was the biggest bastard of all for not letting America know this was a possible consequence, after doing to him the very thing that could lead to this happening!  
  
In the days that followed, all it took was common sense to figure out how to care for the child. America held her constantly. He fed her goat's milk from a glove with a hole worked into one of the fingers. He kept her clean. With the added responsibility of a newborn, he hoped he'd be too busy to be distressed over England.  
  
America wound up missing England more than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is going to go: this part, flashback, one more flashback?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: underage sex

Prying relentlessly and only getting portions of his brother's story frustrated Canada. By nature, America _over_ shared information; _any_ instance where he kept a tight lid on things elicited worry out of Canada, no matter how inconsequential the matter appeared.  
  
"After Virginia...? You...you at least _wrote_ to England, to tell him what happened to you, right? To tell him about _her_?"  
  
"What for?" America had been sweeping the kitchen floor and stopped now, like Canada's question was completely illogical.  
  
"Because it was a huge deal?"  
  
America finished sweeping (using noticeably more force than was necessary) and washed his hands. He grabbed a baby bottle out of the refrigerator. A pan filled with water had already been heating on the stove top, and he plunked the bottle in, then kept watch on it, all the while with his back to his brother.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Canada reflected on how much he hated it when America went into a sulking fit at being presented with common sense. "England would have been back over the _second_ he'd heard the news. Why did it take you so long to tell him? Holding out for maximum guilt trip?"  
  
America muttered something.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Dick move." He remained standing sentry before the stove.  
  
Canada was surprised; America's insults were pretty pathetic and something like this, while not being his style, was more the type of jab he'd throw out nearing the _end_ of an argument, not at the start of one. "What do you mean, dick move? I'm pointing out something you're refusing to explain!"  
  
"Why should I explain anything? If I don't want to bring up certain things, that's my business."  
  
Not wanting to let it go, Canada snapped, "Having another nation's child is not something you just don't talk about."  
  
"It is if you're a country and you're obligated to the needs of your people, instead of to the things you want."  
  
"You were England's _colony_! Your people _were_ his people!"  
  
"And where do you think he was? He was back home! It takes time to get anywhere, by ship, and at that time they couldn't just send one whenever. There was no guaranteeing England would even be able to get on any ships making the journey, if his boss didn't allow it. So what was I supposed to do? Tell him in a letter that I'd somehow had a kid? He would have worried and not been able to do anything about it, and I didn't want him finding out by a note. I was waiting for him to come back to tell him."  
  
Canada had _not_ considered the time period differences. He was kicking himself for forgetting such a glaring fact. If placed in America's situation, he'd want the same thing--to give the news in person.  
  
America lifted the bottle out of the pan, and pushed back one of his sleeves so he could drip-test the temperature on his inner forearm. "If you're done deciding _for_ me, what was a big deal and what wasn't, out of all the things that have happened to me, you might try thinking of how I've _survived_ everything--so I'm aware of the seriousness. Pointing that out after it's over and done with isn't going to help me. You getting personally pissed off by it won't do any good either." America turned off the stove and stalked out of the kitchen, to feed Hawaii.  
  
Intending to just leave his brother alone until the sting of embarrassment faded, Canada's resolve was tested by hearing Hawaii's squalling in the next room. Canada had been around enough baby states to recognize when their crying directly resulted from picking up that their father was stressed or upset.  
  
***  
  
America hid Virginia's identity from everyone. The house was far away enough from the nearest settlement that no one bothered America, if he stayed close to home, and when he did mingle among the citizens, people were coming and going and it was so hectic everywhere, no one recognized America twice as being the same child.

The countries who came looking for England accepted it when America said he was minding Virginia for citizens he knew from the settlement. France and Spain stayed overnights without making the connection between baby and colony, something that should have been a relief for America but only left him anxious. If his all-countries-being-capable-of-childbearing theory stood, why wasn't anyone at least _wondering_ if the little girl was England's? The subject never coming up gave America a greater urge to keep it secret. He'd seen how people got when other people were accused of doing impossible things; America could only imagine how much further countries could take that sort of fear.  
  
The letters that came sparingly from England were dispassionate and businesslike. America found out more from other countries on what his guardian was up to, then he did from England himself.  
  
Being on his own to raise Virginia, America managed by self-teaching himself things--like sewing, the basics of which he figured out by examining all the clothes in the house--and by getting advice from citizens. Implying Virginia was the "daughter of a friend" who was poor, America asked how his "friend" could get clothes for the child (his fledgling skills not being enough, as Virginia grew older, to create proper clothing for a little girl out of his and England's clothes). He was directed to households where the men were away, working, and where there were women willing to do sewing in exchange for wild game. He only needed to resort to doing this a couple of times a year, and he never went to the same people more than once, which helped with his trying-not-to-recognized ruse.  
  
***  
  
Curiously, a letter _not_ from England came on one of the ships. This excited America until he opened it; reading was not a strong point of his. To make things more difficult, the handwriting in this letter was elaborate and the writer had used cross-hatching. With writing over writing, America could barely make out anything of the contents.  
  
It was a letter to _England_. "This person intends to visit here," he read aloud to Virginia. It didn't sound like they were asking, there was a definite "be ready" included. "It's...actually pretty rude." Was this someone who didn't like England? If so, why were they coming to see him?  
  
"Who's visiting?" his daughter asked. She had reached the point where she could start and carry on a conversation a few years back, and this seriously had America considering leaving her at home, when he went into the settlement. She looked older now than he'd been, when he was fending for himself before meeting England.  
  
America flipped the letter over, scanning through it. "Netherlands?" The name was going to mean nothing to his daughter, but America remembered that this was the person who drove off Sweden, when countries were starting to come over here and claim the land.  
  
There was no way to stop Netherlands from coming, so America chose to worry about the country meeting Virginia. He instructed her to speak as little as possible to Netherlands, planning on using his usual story--that the girl was a daughter of a family America was friendly with. It had worked on the others, why shouldn't it work on Netherlands as well?  
  
Except when Netherlands showed up, there was something more discerning in his eyes that America had not seen with Spain or France. Netherlands stared at Virginia for a minute or two, before uneasily turning to America. "Where's England?"  
  
"He's not here."  
  
"When's he gonna be back?"  
  
"He didn't say."  
  
This got a frown out of the country, who appeared annoyed. "He left you alone?" He again looked at America's daughter. "Who's the girl?"  
  
"Just a visitor. I'm taking care of her for a few days."  
  
"I told England I was coming, why did he leave?"  
  
"He's _been_ gone. He never got your letter." He'd been hoping Netherlands would have information on England, but that wasn't looking likely, if he hadn't even known the best way of contacting England was to send mail to his home, not to his colony.  
  
Netherlands turned to leave.  
  
"You're...going?"  
  
"England's not here, there's no reason for me to stay."

America had no idea what came over him. "It's hours from the settlement. You just got here. You won't even stay the night?"  
  
Netherlands paused. He turned around. His eyes fell back on little Virginia, and he looked truly confused. America didn't know if he suspected the truth about the child, or if something else entirely was on his mind, but he nervously hoped Netherlands _would_ guess about Virginia. He was tired of keeping this secret, and for all he knew, maybe if he told another country, they could get word to England that he really needed to visit his colony again, soon.  
  
"Well--what's one night? I'd only spend it drinkin', back at the ship."  
  
***  
  
The country made no moves on the colony. America had to initiate everything. He didn't even know _why_ he was trying to get into Netherlands's bed--the country intimidated America a little, and he hadn't liked doing this the first time he tried it.  
  
At first he relied on his cuteness, saying he didn't like sleeping alone.  
  
"So sleep with the other kid. She's in the right age range for you, isn't she?"  
  
Miffed--he was young, but he did _not_ look like a six-year-old!--America said, "You're older, I'd feel safer being with you."  
  
"Stop being such a pansy and let me sleep. Goddamn, I should have gone back after all. Fuckin' children."  
  
America took this as an invite and forced his way into Netherlands's bed. Netherlands rolled over, grumbled, and lay still. America didn't do anything for several moments, then tried groping the country.  
  
Netherlands sat up, startled. "Kid--what the hell? How old are you, ten? Twelve?"  
  
"I do this with England all the time," America lied.  
  
"You do this...with England?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"All the time?" Netherlands sounded doubtful.  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
This seemed to change Netherlands's mind, and he let the colony go back to exploring his body. When he found out America _didn't_ know what to do--England had rushed straight through to the sex--Netherlands took the lead, but he wasn't much better than America's guardian, though he did try to prepare America for what he intended to do.  
  
At the first sensation of Netherlands's fingers entering him, America stiffened, briefly panicking. How the hell could this hurt? He'd given birth, even if that was years ago, a baby was a lot bigger than a few fingers!  
  
Netherlands stopped, noticing America's tension. "You said you do this with England, what's the problem?"  
  
"Nothing...nothing. He...didn't..." America tried to breath normally and gripped the bedsheets, willing himself to stop resisting the country's moves.  
  
"He didn't do anything beforehand? Selfish jackass." As if wanting to prove he was better in bed than the other country, Netherlands started over, using only one finger. He went slowly and took a good deal of time to stretch America, gradually working in more fingers. Though he was trying to be careful, Netherlands seemed unused to being gentle; his attempts with America were painful to the colony, not pleasurable. It barely felt better than that time with England, and the only improvement was that America could at least breath easily after adjusting to Netherlands's fingers jabbing into him.  
  
Netherlands took America's calmness for approval and removed his fingers. The heat from Netherlands's body warmed America's back as America pressed his face to his pillow, waiting for Netherlands to make the next move.  
  
It was worse than he'd been expecting--America held his breath, clenched at the pillow, and was dismayed to realize Netherlands wasn't even in all the way.  
  
The country swore, paused, pressed on. In jarring starts and stops, he forced himself into America.  
  
America whimpered, wanting this over with.  
  
Netherlands either didn't notice or didn't care. He started thrusting into America, the bumping pinning the colony into the mattress. He couldn't think straight to push Netherlands off; the country's swearing was scaring America senseless. He didn't know if the almost burning feeling of Netherlands's body felt worse than the burning he was inflicting, down below.

After entirely too long, Netherlands stopped moving, and limply laid on top of America. America was too traumatized to nudge or tell the country to get off him--he feared doing so would get Netherlands going again, and America didn't want to do this a second time.  
  
With a groan, Netherlands eased himself off the colony. He dropped next to America, catching his breath, while America felt a disgusting dampness oozing out of him and onto the bed. He tried to tell himself to get up, this was leaving a mess, but then Netherlands rolled over, pulled America to him, held him tightly, and this affection appealed to the colony.  
  
He tried to tell himself he was imagining how bad the sex had been, as he calmed down in Netherlands's arms.  
  
***  
  
Netherlands stuck around for a few days more. He was bored with the people he'd been traveling with, and screwing a willing America was far more interesting, but Virginia did not like him, and she liked even less being ignored by her own father. She was a brat to both Netherlands and America until Netherlands no longer wanted to be there and America just wanted him to go, if that would bring peace to his home. He wasn't finding the sex any less unpleasant, no matter how many times he let Netherlands do it.  
  
Once Netherlands was out of the picture, America was horrified at how easily he'd been distracted from his child. He vowed to be more attentive from now on. He let her sleep in his bed, he allowed her to decide what they were going to do each day, he didn't correct her when she was deliberately rude to him.  
  
He assumed his sudden attempts of better parenting were wearing him out, but after several weeks, when even Virginia was complaining that all America wanted to do anymore was eat everything in sight and sleep all the time, America realized he was pregnant again. He was too tired to do much more than hope Virginia wouldn't throw a tantrum at the news, but fortunately, despite disliking Netherlands, Virginia was happy about getting a little brother or sister.  
  
***  
  
Hawaii's howling grew more frenzied. Canada went to help his brother.  
  
America was holding the baby against his shoulder, patting her back, petting her hair, and whispering to her. "Shh...shh...calm down. Calm down, everything's fine. You're fine, you're fine, calm down. Stop crying, I'm here."  
  
"Give her to me," Canada said. Since he'd gotten to the house, he hadn't seen his brother hold still at any given time; America had been multi-tasking, while caring for his children. It made Canada feel tired just watching, and America looked like he was awake through sheer willpower--when had been the last time he'd gotten more than a few hours of sleep? Hawaii was six weeks old, so she probably only slept for long periods during the day, when America was busy, and even before she'd been born, America wouldn't have gotten a break, because he'd been dealing with a baby Alaska, while pregnant.  
  
America glared at Canada.  
  
"You can let me deal with her crying, or listen to her scream some more. Which is better?"  
  
"She'll still be screaming even if you take her," America grumbled, but handed the baby over--and stomped off.  
  
"Sorry I upset your Daddy," Canada told Hawaii, who wasn't approving of this switch in who was holding her. She continued wailing, tiny fists clamping onto the folds of Canada's shirt. She was frighteningly strong, for weighing under ten pounds. Canada jostled her a little while stroking her back, and this got her to cry less; he tried sticking the bottle in her mouth and she accepted it. He sat down with her. "You are so cute," he gushed.  
  
Hawaii ignored him, being more enthused by her meal.  
  
Things went quietly enough, and Canada was lulled into tranquility, holding the baby. This quickly evaporated when she'd had enough of the bottle. As soon as Canada removed it, she spit up all over him.  
  
"Okay, didn't miss that," Canada admitted. He should have known better than to feed her so quickly, when she'd been crying that hard. He'd _known_ those hadn't been hunger cries.  
  
Taking the baby into the kitchen, he first wiped off her face, then tended to his shirt.  
  
America was sitting at the table, feeding Alaska.

"Is it okay to be feeding him like that? It's still in the tin..."  
  
"If food out of cans hasn't killed any of my kids yet, I don't see it starting anytime soon." America aimed a spoonful of apricots at the child. "Nom, nom, apricots! If you don't eat them, I'm gonna. Do you want Daddy to eat _all_ the apricots?"  
  
"No no no no no no _no_!" Alaska screeched, making Canada jump--he hadn't heard the boy say anything up till now. He hadn't even known Alaska _could_ talk.  
  
"He's...really advanced, eh?"  
  
America spooned the apricots into Alaska's mouth, then took another spoonful from the can and ate this himself. "Actually...he only just says, 'no'."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Yeah." America waited for his son to finish chewing. He looked up at his brother. "Did you get _any_ of the formula in _her_?"  
  
"Like I really need to remind you of all people how much babies spew."  
  
America looked amused. Canada, still holding the baby, sat down next to his brother and watched him offer Alaska more canned fruit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not using chronological order for the first thirteen states, but dates of settlement, when they were colonies. I should have noted that, it's pure fanon and there's so many versions, who would know which one was meant...
> 
> In 1614, New Netherland Company was being started. Dutch ships doing trade with Natives and trying to find the Northwest Passage. It lasted from 1615 to 1618.
> 
> Cross-hatched letters were done to cut down on postage--write as usual down the paper, turn the paper sideways, write over the writing you did earlier.


	4. Chapter 4

The general nature of a personification is that it appears, rather than is born. A creature not born--and having no parents--must be instilled with survival means, and even a personification not following the usual creation process, who is born of two other personifications, will have abilities that humans lack. These advantages are no guarantee of success. They only serve as a starting point for a personification to move up from, where a human--if forced to survived solo as an infant--would, without a doubt, die.  
  
Virginia Jones grasped details, but she could not clearly see the whole picture. It was too big for her (and what was _she_ , if her father represented all the people that had come to this land?)  
  
Children from the settlement had two parents, a man and a woman; Virginia had America, who was one person and a boy. America was her father but he made Virginia call him "Alfred," so people would think they were brother and sister; children of the settlers were never allowed to call their parents by first name. The settlers needed a group of people and several days to get projects done; America could do the work of three of them in a single day.  
  
Many things did not make sense to her, but Virginia had no trouble understanding that no one was to ever know she was America's child, or terrible things would happen to them both.  
  
***  
  
In many ways, America felt more like an older brother than a father to Virginia. Maybe it was because she wasn't allowed to call him father, or because America looked so inexplicably young. He took care of her, he was the only guardian she'd ever known--but he didn't feel like a parent.  
  
It had always been just the two of them. That was what Virginia was used to.  
  
Netherlands disrupted the life Virginia and America had. Worse, he didn't even bother sticking around for America, when in the days and weeks afterward, something had clearly changed with him.  
  
He got clingy. He made Virginia sleep in his bed, when she hadn't slept with him since she was three. He seemed to have lost the will to do much of anything these days and kept asking her what she wanted to do. She didn't get why he asked, when he just fell asleep no matter what they were doing, or withdrew early to go eat something. Virginia was seriously wondering if she was going to have to start looking after him, with how spacey America had become, when he asked her if she had ever wanted a little brother or sister.

Which explained the weight gain, but she wondered what America would have done if she'd said no, she didn't want a sibling.  
  
***  
  
Now that it was plain to see that the baby causing America's stomach to swell was also the reason for America's newfound weariness, Virginia felt a sense of obligation to help him. The baby was clearly a hindrance! But hopefully once it was born--and America was free from its obnoxious influence--America would be himself again. A baby brother or sister would be fine, added to their lives, once everything was back on track.  
  
And it wasn't like _Netherlands_ was going to come back to protect America and the baby.  
  
Virginia's intentions were good, but in hindsight, she had to admit she started off too ambitiously; doing smaller things for America would have been more useful, because the rifle incident turned America into a nervous wreck and instead of just being exhausted and worried about the coming baby, he was exhausted and worrying over _everything_.  
  
***  
  
What happened was a bear wandered near the house one day.  
  
America always told Virginia not to bother animals and they wouldn't bother her, but Virginia had seen America fire his rifle many times and he'd taught her how to skin and gut animals--what if she took down this bear? Imagine how much trouble she'd be saving him! It would be forever before he'd have to hunt anything again!  
  
As soon as the rifle was in her hands, she got a guilty premonition that this was not something that would make America in any way happy. Still, she really wanted to use the firearm herself.  
  
"Stay in the yard!" she hissed at the bear. It was looking in another direction. The animal was so close that Virginia could see the shagginess of its coat. Its patchy fur wasn't pretty like that of the smaller game America hunted.

The rifle was heavy and a little more than half Virginia's height, in length. Awkwardly holding it, she aimed it at the bear, while trying to get a decent grip and at the same time, be able to shoot. She couldn't hold the rifle steady--then it slipped.  
  
Virginia tightened her hold to keep it from falling, and the rifle fired before she meant to fire it.  
  
It jerked backward, the butt of the weapon slamming painfully into her chest. She was knocked onto the ground. Deafened momentarily by the blast, she felt the gun suddenly hot and burning her hands, but she couldn't drop the firearm like she wanted to; it was stuck to her skin. Or her hands were unable to unclench.  
  
" _Virginia_!"  
  
She sat up and watched as the bear shuffled away.  
  
"Virginia! What the hell? What happened?!" America reached her, prying the rifle out of her grip. He cursed when he saw her hands. "I told you never to touch that rifle! What were you thinking?"  
  
"There was a bear in the yard," Virginia told him, faintly.  
  
"Oh, Virginia, one shot wouldn't kill a bear. This isn't the right time of year to preserve meat, and I don't think I could dry something that big. Even if I _could_ , neither of us would want to be eating it for months."  
  
He carried her into the house and made her soak her hands in egg whites. She didn't tell him about the rifle hitting her in the chest.  
  
Virginia's hands healed quickly, since America had attended to them immediately, but where the rifle had struck her left a bruise that took weeks to fade. Virginia poked at it in the days afterward, using the pain to remind herself not to do foolish things that would only scare America, instead of help him.  
  
***  
  
There had already been a lot America wouldn't let Virginia do, because of how small she was, and the impulsive stunt she'd pulled seemed to convince him that he was not being protective enough. To remedy this, he barely allowed her in the kitchen, he repeatedly warned her against getting too close to the fireplace, he wouldn't let her go with him to get wood, when he was swinging around an ax. Virginia had to settle for straightening up rooms, bringing water to the house, and feeding and cleaning up after the animals they kept, so that when America went to take care of these chores, he found them already done.  
  
And although he hugged her every time and said what a helpful child she was being, Virginia felt she was not doing enough.  
  
America seemed depressed.  
  
She had thought it was just more of him being tired. On days America was especially busy, he seemed almost unable to move when he finally stopped working. Then Virginia noticed America went from eating all the time to hardly eating at all. She thought it was from the vomiting--she wouldn't want to eat either, if it was making her throw up!--but there were nights America wouldn't let her sleep in his bed, and then he wouldn't leave his bedroom the next day. Sometimes he'd stay in there for longer than a day, but he couldn't make it past two; even if _he_ didn't want to eat, the baby seemed to be keeping him from outright stopping.  
  
During these days, Virginia was tempted to do things which America ordinarily wouldn't allow. Not wanting to upset him, she resisted.  
  
***  
  
Maybe he was sad that Netherlands hadn't come back?  
  
Virginia did not like sharing America. She resented the people who rarely visited him and even more rarely stayed over, but none of these did she hate with the animosity she felt for the spiky-haired man that America had blown her off for.  
  
That being said...Netherlands was an adult. The most company America had was Virginia, a child. The difference had to count for something, as much as she'd rather not admit.

"Why isn't Netherlands here?" she asked, when America annoyed her one day by falling asleep while reading to her. She hadn't _wanted_ him reading to her; he was slow and often mixed up or skipped words, changing the entire meaning of the story. Virginia wanted to do other things, but of _course_ America was "too tired." Why couldn't the baby hurry up and be born? It made just being close to America an absolute pain--America often hugged or held Virginia close to him, but he'd gained a lot of weight from the baby, and it kicked and jabbed _constantly_. How had America not been driven crazy by the agitation?  
  
America lost his place in the book. Trying to find it again, he said distractedly, "You didn't like Netherlands. Why do you care that he's not here?"  
  
She was a personification. She had abilities children normally did not possess. However, in spite of this, Virginia _was_ also a little girl. Articulating that she'd been _ignored_ in favor of someone who couldn't be bothered to stay was beyond Virginia's current skills, though she was hurt by it. Because she could not explain this, she settled for sulking visibly in America's arms.  
  
"He's gone, you probably won't be seeing him again." America hugged her. Tiny feet or elbows pressed into Virginia's back.  
  
She pulled away from the affectionate hold--and the baby's abuse--to glare at America defiantly. "You said he was _gone_. Is he or is he not?"  
  
"He _is_ gone!"  
  
"But you said _probably_. Why did you say that if you know for certain he's gone?"  
  
He had that look he got whenever he didn't know the answer to something she'd asked. America loathed having to admit uncertainty.  
  
" _Well_?" It used to be he'd never let her speak this way to him! He'd tell her _why_ it was wrong and warn her not to do it again. The indulgence had been fun at first. Now Virginia just wanted things to go back to the way they'd been before.  
  
America pulled her close again, resting his chin on her head--which was the same position he'd managed to fall asleep in, so Virginia was instantly suspicious. "It takes two people to have a baby."  
  
"But I only have you!"  
  
"No, you don't. You have me and England. Someday you'll meet him."  
  
England was the country who was in charge of all this land. He was even in charge of her father. He must be _very_ powerful. "When? When will I meet him?"  
  
"I can't say. He has to oversee a lot of places, and it takes time to get everywhere. It may be a long time before we see him again."  
  
She wanted to point out _she'd_ never seen England at all, but America sounded sad, so Virginia let him keep holding her. The baby squirmed some more, stretching the already taut skin of the mound of America's belly, and Virginia again wondered how much longer it would be till her little brother or sister arrived. The baby couldn't possibly have any room left in there.  
  
***  
  
In an apartment in Arlington, Virginia Jones was laying newspaper in the bottom of a parakeet cage when the phone rang.  
  
This was a call Virginia had been dreading, but she knew it was coming--her father had been lying low for too many months to keep up with not sticking his nose into everyone else's business. She just _knew_ he was going to ignore anything she said, and Virginia herself couldn't muster up the optimism to hope the rumors concerning Khrushchev might be unfounded.  
  
Ready for an argument, Virginia answered the phone with, "I'm surprised it took you this long to call."  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"Oh. New York. I was waiting on a call from someone else."  
  
"Is this a bad time? I can call later."  
  
"No, stay on the line. I don't want to talk to them."  
  
Her little brother laughed. It was a sudden, sharp sound that cut off too soon, making him sound irritatingly cocky. "I just got a call from Uncle Matthew."

"Uncle Matthew?" Virginia was surprised. "What, is he still hung up over that joke? He needs to let it go, that prank was _funny_." She was sorry she hadn't thought of it; Canada had called her first, and she'd told him he might have better luck with New York, who--on the spot!--improvised that round of let's--see--how--long--we--can--jerk--around--Canada with the other states. Usually nothing less than gossip could get America's children all calling each other that fast.  
  
"No, uh...he asked again where Dad was, before Hawaii became a state."  
  
Why did Canada _care_? If America wasn't telling, that should be respected! "Did you tell him?"  
  
"No. Why does he need to know that?"  
  
Sticking her hand in the bird cage, Virginia nudged one of her parakeets. It stepped onto her index finger, and she brought it up against her cheek, feeling the softness of the yellow feathers. "You don't think Canada is in league with Russia for some weird Soviet conspiracy, do you?"  
  
"Who gives a shit?"  
  
"Well, all of us will, if the Soviet Union's actually as well off as rumors are saying." She said this lightly, but there was a tenseness to her voice not successfully hidden. "I'm probably worrying over nothing. I just wish Dad would pick a single reaction and stick with it. Listening to what his boss says, what the government people are saying, then _him_ one minute insulting Russia and the next letting him fuck him--how can the President stand for that?"  
  
"He's probably fine with it. The sex wouldn't have worked as a tactic forever, and holding out with Alaska, making him a pawn--that's good backup."  
  
"What a nasty thing to say about our baby brother," Virginia said uncaringly, petting the parakeet.  
  
"We're all pawns, to Dad."  
  
"Oh, we are _not_. He loves New Mexico because she's a science fiction fanatic who attracts aliens, not because she's especially useful. Her poor twin. Arizona's probably the first state to have been the baby of the family without becoming the favorite child."  
  
"Naw, there were plenty of us Dad didn't raise who only got attention because you or I or another state were caring for them."  
  
She thought this over as she put the parakeet back in the cage. "Guess you're right. Crazy times, weren't they?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nikita Khrushchev was First Secretary of the Communist Party. He made an announcement in November 1959 that his country was going to have 250 thermonuclear warheads made within the year. Not reassuring news, when you've got political rumors to worry about.
> 
> current!Virginia calling America "Dad" when colony!Virginia wasn't allowed to is deliberate.


	5. Chapter 5

As the baby continued weighing down America, he acted even more oddly. Virginia's questions of, "When is the baby going be here?" and, "Is it safe for the baby if you're doing that?" were met by America absently telling Virginia she was too young to be worrying about such matters.  
  
He snapped out of his tired and depressed state, becoming energetic for the first time in months. Losing interest in coddling his daughter, he gained an obsession with cleaning the house. Virginia was not sorry for this exchange; she was rejoicing over the lack of supervision and getting some breathing space from America.  
  
She wasn't happy long. America's new fixation was focusing on things that didn't _need_ cleaning. How far he was taking this was worrisome.  
  
"What are you _doing_?" she asked, having rushed into a room after hearing loud scraping noises, to find America dragging a heavy writing table away from the wall.  
  
"Cleaning."  
  
"You never use that thing. Why do you need it cleaner than it already is?"  
  
"There was dust underneath it. I couldn't reached under there to clear it away, the baby won't let me bend like that."  
  
"You could have called me to do it." She thought it was an unnecessary task, but it made her nervous, seeing America unable to hold still. What would happen to the baby if America was bumping into things, or knocking things down on himself? Virginia privately believed her little brother or sister was extraordinarily stupid, if the things America was compelled to do because of it were proof of anything, but her sibling didn't need to be made stupider, by their father's actions.  
  
America glared at the desk like he wanted to break it into pieces, not sweep away dust from beneath it. "I'm cleaning it myself, that way I _know_ it's clean. It needs to be _spotless_."  
  
" _Why_?"  
  
"Because I won't have time to do it _after_ the baby's here."  
  
"But the baby's not going to use anything in this room. It's barely going to use anything in this _house_."  
  
"You couldn't possibly understand, Virginia," America told her, in his I'm-the-parent-and-you're-the-child-even-if-I-don't-let-you-call-me-father voice, the one he used whenever he was trying to be impressive. It never lived up to the conviction. "If you have time to ask questions, you have time to help me."  
  
"You just said you didn't want me cleaning."  
  
"Well, bring me the broom then. You're faster than me."  
  
"It's right behind you." If this flightiness lasted after the baby came, her poor brother or sister wouldn't survive a week under America's care.  
  
***  
  
America hadn't been making Virginia sleep with him in the last weeks--America had been too uncomfortable no matter how he lay or sat in bed. He kept getting up and walking around, which would have kept her from sleeping. So when he did not leave the bedroom one morning, Virginia was not sure if America had worn himself out with all the cleaning he'd been doing, or if America had sunk back into his low spirits.  
  
She left him alone most of the day. By evening, she decided to knock on his door and at least see if he wanted anything to eat or drink. He'd been in there since the night before.  
  
Approaching the room, she heard groaning. "Alfred?" she called, alarmed--it took a lot for America to _notice_ he was hurt. What could possibly have happened to him? "Are you alright?"  
  
The pained noises stopped, followed by a muffled, "Fuck!", then America tersely yelled, "What is it?" He was out of breath.  
  
"What's wrong? Can I come in--"  
  
"No! _Don't_ come in here! Go to bed, leave me alone for a while. If I need you, I'll call you."  
  
"But you're--"  
  
"I don't need you underfoot right now!"  
  
It must be the baby. Well, it was about time. Virginia didn't leave, but she compromised by not going into the room, and sat in the hallway, without letting America know she was still there.

For a long time, she heard nothing but America's ragged breathing. Virginia's legs grew painfully numb. Irrationally, she felt that if she moved, even to stretch, America would become aware of her presence. Every time he made a noise in the bedroom, moaning or whimpering, Virginia tensed up, holding her breath. How long was this going to take? When had it _started_?  
  
***  
  
Against her will, Virginia was having trouble keeping her eyes open.  
  
She pinched the skin on her wrists. She dug her nails into her palms. She tried not blinking, but her eyes got dry, she'd _have_ to blink, and her eyes would then shut for too long. Falling asleep and waking up--sometimes within seconds--was making her jumpy.  
  
A yelp from the bedroom scared Virginia wide awake. Was something wrong? America hadn't been that loud before, why was he now? She listened hard; all that came next was more heavy breathing and groaning. Eventually, even that died down, and she couldn't hear anything.  
  
Virginia had calmed and was getting sleepy again when a new noise made her jump: it was enraged screaming, and it was _not_ America who was doing it.  
  
It felt like hours before the wailing stopped, though Virginia knew it couldn't have been that long. When America quit moving around in the bedroom, Virginia got to her feet. She waited for the numbness to leave her, as she worked up the nerve to open the door and check on America--she hadn't dared try while she knew for a fact he was awake.  
  
***  
  
To Virginia's relief, America _was_ asleep, exactly as she'd guessed he'd be. He looked alright, just dead tired.  
  
Emboldened by the thought that America probably lacked the energy to yell at her if she woke him up, Virginia sat on the bed beside him to get a closer look at the baby. She couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. Wrapped in a sheet and curled up on America's chest so its face was pressed against America's skin, there was almost no part of the baby that was visible. Its cheek looked bruised; there were delicate spider veins spreading across the skin.  
  
She wanted to see if the spider veins were all over its face, but poking the baby at first did nothing, then made it angrily rub its face hard at America's chest. Which woke America.  
  
"Hey, stop poking your baby brother," he mumbled. He was too tired to even keep his eyes opened.  
  
Virginia didn't say anything, afraid America was going to order her out, but he reached for her, pulling her to him, and lying next to her father, Virginia stared at her baby brother some more, as America went back to sleep.  
  
***  
  
New Netherland was an ugly little thing who, for the first several weeks of his life, resembled a skinned animal more than a child. Somehow, he managed to look unimpressed by everything his father and older sister did. He even sneered in his sleep.  
  
Virginia adored him, even if he'd been given a ridiculous name. For all New Netherland's outward contrariness, he was the calmest baby Virginia and had ever seen. He only cried when he was hungry. The rest of the time, he was content with lying like a boneless lump against his sister.  
  
America thought it was sweet how devoted Virginia was to her brother. But when he could only get New Netherland back to feed him, America found the situation losing its charm.  
  
"Go play outside," he snapped one day at Virginia.  
  
"Can I bring New Netherland with me?"  
  
"Of course not. Leave him here."  
  
"Then I'm staying inside."  
  
"You're a child. Go act like one!"  
  
"You're a child too," Virginia sassed, even though America did not look that young anymore. No one in the settlement would have believed him to be Virginia's father, but the age gap between them appeared larger, and it was going to look considerably less suspicious, Virginia--and now the new baby--being under America's supervision.  
  
"Give me my son," America commanded. For the first time that Virginia could recall, he looked displeased with her.  
  
She handed her brother over. She was willing to push limits with her father, but there was only so far she'd go.  
  
***  
  
In Arlington, Virginia ended her call with New York. She stayed near the phone, in case Canada was planning to call her next.

If she had been human, she would have blamed America for how her life turned out. Because she was a state and former colony, she did not.  
  
Everything that she and her siblings had been through was too complicated to assign specific blame, and the states knew their father didn't decide what his citizens desired. Virginia had been impatient and frustrated too many times to count over the rash things America did, and how he felt the need to "save" or better the rest of the world, without considering if what he wanted would actually benefit who he planned to inflict it upon. The one time she'd truly been _angry_ with her father had been during the Civil War, when the whole family was fighting, _everyone_ became crazed, and Virginia believed West Virginia was intended to be a replacement for her.  
  
She had been too young, when New York was New Netherland, to fully understand America's reactions. Despite America's best efforts at reestablishing his authority, he was unhappy once New Netherland was in his arms more than Virginia's, and Virginia was behaving more like a daughter and less like a baby sister who thought her big brother was a fool.  
  
Her father had been _bored_ , Virginia now knew.  
  
***  
  
What Canada wanted most was to get a proper meal into his brother and then make sure America slept for more than a few hours; America refused the offer of food and only agreed to a nap.  
  
This still gave a workable time frame. After America had gone upstairs, Canada set Alaska down in the middle of a horde of stuffed animals, dragged the playpen into one doorway of the living room, effectively blocked the other doorway with an armchair, stuck Hawaii in the playpen, then snooped around. He found all of America's contact information, and guessed which phone numbers were going to be most helpful.  
  
What he was doing now was appeasing his own curiosity, not helping his brother.  
  
America had a pattern, in that whichever state was youngest was usually his favorite. Though they'd all said otherwise, Canada suspected America had been staying with various of his states, and since after Hawaii and Alaska, Arizona and New Mexico were youngest, they were first of who Canada planned to call.  
  
Theoretically, _Arizona_ should have been first, but she and her twin were a subversion to America's habit. New Mexico had been born six weeks early, so America worried more about her, then she again ensnared his attention by the aliens that kept showing up on her land. By contrast, Arizona was just too normal to compete. New Mexico was a bit of an odd duck, preferring to play with chemicals and read science journals over interacting with her siblings, and because she was so disinterested in him, America liked her best.  
  
Canada called New Mexico's home. She picked up after the second ring.  
  
"New Mexico?" Canada asked.  
  
"Daddy? Hi! Texas said he's going to beat me halfway to hell!"  
  
Not ready for this, Canada both failed to tell New Mexico he was not America, and he completely forgot he _had_ a question to ask.  
  
"Why--"  
  
"Can you make someone come here and stop him? He was really mad when Arizona called him."  
  
Realizing she thought he was her father, Canada tried setting things straight. "I'm not--"  
  
"One of the older states would be good."  
  
"Just a minute. This isn't--"  
  
"Daddy? I can't hear you, are you still on the line? Hello? _Hello?_ "  
  
"I'm here, it's just that--"  
  
"Hey, you're not my dad!" She said this like Canada had deliberately tried tricking her. "Put Daddy on the phone!"  
  
"Why does Texas want to beat you?"  
  
"I glued Arizona's toes together."  
  
Canada _wanted_ to say something other than asking why New Mexico did that, but words were failing him and he had nothing.  
  
New Mexico took his silence as a cue to explain herself. "She deserved it! She fell asleep when I didn't want her going to sleep! Except she kind of can't walk now. I'm not sure how she got to the phone, but she called Texas and he's on his way."  
  
Wait...Arizona couldn't _walk_? "New Mexico--did you put _cyanoacrylate_ on your sister?"  
  
" _Paste_ was hardly to have the same holding power."  
  
"Why--"  
  
"Are you going to put Daddy on the line or not?"

"No, I'm not. And doing something like that isn't an accident! You deserve whatever Texas intends to do to you!"  
  
New Mexico sighed a very loud, frustrated exhalation. "I hate you, Uncle Matthew. Just remember, you could have _prevented_ my death."  
  
Canada was still holding the phone to his ear a full minute after New Mexico hung up. It was not until Alaska lobbed a stuffed giraffe at his head that Canada put the phone down. He tossed the toy back. "Do I even want to continue on, in order?" he asked the baby, who did not appear to care about the insanity of his older siblings.  
  
Deciding to mix things up a bit, Canada meant to call Virginia, but read the wrong number and dialed New York. New York curtly told Canada he wasn't telling him anything. Canada took a break to check on Hawaii, then came back to the phone and tried Virginia's number.  
  
Her first words to him were, " _Why_ are you asking about Dad?"  
  
"New York called you, didn't he?"  
  
"Yes. You're at Dad's house, aren't you? He let you come there, obviously he has his reasons for not telling you where he's been. _Leave it at that._ "  
  
This wasn't turning out to be worth the effort. "I just want to know what's been going on."  
  
"Do you need it spelled out? Soviet Union--evil. Dad knocking boots with Russia--stupid idea. Dad's been doing it anyway, since he's a mindless slut, and unfortunately for him, he got knocked up by the worst candidate possible. Who the hell would want Russia around a baby? Dad _has_ to avoid him now that he's got a kid from him. Japan's just unlucky because at this time, Dad doesn't want the other countries knowing his whereabouts, in case it gets back to Russia or someone close to Russia."  
  
"But America's at his main residence. Everyone knows he lives there."  
  
"And it's such a stupidly obvious place that no one's going to try reaching him there. I'm guessing he only just came back there recently and isn't going to stay long."  
  
"So who was he with before?"  
  
"I'm not telling you! Stop asking! None of us are going to tell you! You don't even _need_ to know, so stay out of it! I'm hanging up."  
  
"Definitely not worth it..." Canada mumbled. Virginia was right, he _should_ have stayed out of the matter. Knowing for sure that the fathers of Hawaii and Alaska had no contact with their children only gave Canada a sense of guilt, when it wasn't on him to decide what to do with America's states.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyanoacrylate is super glue. In 1959, the name for it was Eastman 910. It can be good to use for closing cuts that normally would require stitches.
> 
> There's...maybe half answers in this? England comes back in the next part. America's POV will give more answers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: child neglect/bad parenting?, breastfeeding

America spent the entirety of his second pregnancy positive he hated his unborn baby.  
  
By turns, the colony was resentful and self-pitying--his bewilderment over how he could be pregnant was brought back full force, with no resolution to be had. He felt guilty for not paying more attention to his daughter. He was so tired that not a day went by without him wanting to cry from being so worn out. Some days America _couldn't_ get up and do what needed to be done. On good days, he'd be able to do the essential, still have time for Virginia, and only catnap for a few minutes while with her. When he had time to rest, contradictorily, he was overwhelmed with urges to clean, or do other more practical things like read to his daughter or fuss over her clothes and the clothing he intended to use for the baby.  
  
Virginia was getting big enough to semi care for herself, and America couldn't help thinking he should have been closer to having some of his freedom back, not needing to restart the routine! He tried to remember that the baby hadn't asked to be conceived, it was his and Netherlands's own stupid fault--but with all that was pervading America's thoughts, he wondered if there'd be any way he _wouldn't_ take his unhappiness out on his poor child.  
  
***  
  
He felt so awful after delivering New Netherland that for a while, America forgot to feel guilty for not being happy about the new baby.  
  
Having Virginia hadn't been this bad. Maybe he'd been in shock at the time and had forgotten how it had gone, or this baby was bigger and hurt worse, or he'd bled more with it, but America was only able to wipe the mess from the birth into a heap of bloody, dampened sheets before collapsing into bed, the baby on his chest. He might have passed out. Later, he became aware that Virginia was in the room and on the bed next to him, bothering the baby, who--from the pain America was feeling--had taken it upon himself to try to get a meal out of America.  
  
Breastfeeding grossed out America more than pregnancy had. It was completely illogical, seeing how much he'd already done that was unnatural, but America didn't want to prolong what his body had been undergoing.  
  
His inclination was to straightaway pry off the newborn. America was tired though, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to get up any time soon. He let the baby continue nursing, intending to sleep and, when he was feeling more alert, instruct Virginia to milk the goat and start feeding the baby on that.  
  
This wasn't a good idea.

When America cut off the supply to New Netherland, more than a day had gone by. America's body was not getting the hint that he didn't want to breastfeed, and New Netherland did not appreciate a glove full of goat secretion being shoved into his face. Virginia took over trying to get her brother to swallow the goat's milk, as America crossed his arms over his aching chest. After two days, America couldn't take anymore--it was scaring him how the baby was vomiting up anything they got into him. The way things were going, the newborn was going to choke to death before he could starve.  
  
The hell with indignity. America didn't want his baby suffering.  
  
Knowing that even in the lowest moments of his resentment, he didn't wish any harm on this second child eased America's guilt. Within days, he forgot that he'd ever felt any unhappiness toward the baby.  
  
***  
  
He still wasn't _happy_ , but feeding the baby and arguing with Virginia exhausted America so much that he was in too much of a daze to recognize he was feeling discontentment.  
  
This trance-like state lasted until the day America heard the door to the house open and he was greeted by not Virginia's voice but _England's_. The country was calling America's name and then saying something about tea as America--for the first time in months feeling something other than dreariness--headed for his guardian, overjoyed that England had returned. His children were the furthest thing from his thoughts as England stammered in shock over how much America had grown, and America didn't even care that he was acting like an overeager puppy as he threw himself at England.  
  
"You got so big!" England finally managed to voice coherently.  
  
"You were gone a long time!" America responded, accusingly.

"I was. I'm sorry." England hugged America tightly, and America got why England had been so stunned--he was actually a little taller than England now. When had that happened? He remembered when England left, hadn't he only come up to England's chest then?  
  
For a few minutes, America experienced bliss, in the comfort of England's embrace. Everything was going to be alright, America was certain; England could fix all of America's worries: Virginia's disobedience, how exhausting caring for the baby was, all the hiding America had had to do from the countries and his citizens, how he was going to continue providing for his children now that there were two. All that was over now.  
  
Or so he thought. America hadn't considered he might be investing too much faith in England.  
  
Virginia walked into the room, carrying her baby brother. Confused over why her father was hugging this man she'd never seen before, she simply stared at England, who, for his part, took one look past America at Virginia and couldn't _not_ notice that this child had suspiciously similar eyebrows and eye coloring.  
  
England let go of America and lost all coherency once again. America was wondering how badly England was going to take this when England was able to quit stammering and nervously demanded, "Who are these two? You _know_ the settlers aren't supposed to be here! Why are you inviting them to the house? How often have you done this?"  
  
Damn. _That_ bit of happiness had been short lived. "They live here."  
  
"What would possess you to do such a thing?"  
  
"Relax, they're not settlers."  
  
"Then what are they?" England appeared to be in no mood for games.  
  
In America's defense, this _wasn't_ a game. It had been so long since he'd seen England that he'd never bothered to think _how_ he was going to break the news of Virginia to the country. "They're mine," he answered, deciding being short and to the point would be best, in this situation.  
  
"Yours. Funny. Whose are they really?"  
  
"They're mine. Seriously." America was a little concerned that England wasn't believing him.  
  
England gave America an impatient look like this was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard anyone say. "You took in _settler children_? Has it even occured to you just how bad an idea that is? Where did you get them from? They need to go back!"  
  
"Go back?" Virginia said. "I'm not going anywhere, _this_ is my home! Why don't _you_ go back? Alfred, why is this man yelling and giving orders? Who is he?"  
  
For a moment, America thought England was going to direct his yelling at Virginia, but then he focused his gaze back onto America. "See how rude that one is? You're a bad influence already! Those children need to go to people who will discipline them!"  
  
"I do _not_ need discipline!"  
  
"They're not going anywhere. When I said they're mine, I didn't mean I found them and took them in. They're _mine_."  
  
He could tell England was trying to come up with any other possibility, rather than take America's words at face value. Did he truly not believe him, or did he just not _want_ to believe him? "They're...yours?"  
  
"Yes." Was he actually accepting it?  
  
"You... _had_ them? _You_ did?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Virginia frowned. " _This_ is my father? _He's_ England?" She glared at England. "Why are you yelling at America?" It was the first time she'd ever called her father by his real name.  
  
England did not seem to hear his daughter. He was staring at America in shock. "Why aren't you dead?"  
  
Unable to believe he'd heard right, America watched England uneasily, hoping he'd laugh awkwardly and say it was just a bad joke, or he'd apologize and try to help America figure out how this had happened.  
  
Virginia was angered enough to challenge England's question when America could not. "Why would you say something like that? How dare you go on about rudeness, then ask him such a thing! What's your _problem_?"  
  
England gave no answer.

Feeling horribly hollow all of a sudden, America brushed past England. He went to Virginia, taking the baby from her, and holding New Netherland with one arm, America grabbed Virginia as well and left the room with both his children. Virginia was bombarding him with questions about why he was allowing England to talk to him like that, but America was having trouble concentrating on his daughter. He brought the children into his bedroom, closed the door, let go of Virginia, then sat down on the floor with his back to the door, in horrified silence. New Netherland--who had been looking drowsy throughout the drama--fell asleep pressed up against his father.  
  
"...America...?"  
  
"You can't call me that when anyone else is around," he said. Strange, he sounded perfectly normal. "It was fine in front of England, and when you, me, and your brother are alone, but not in front of anyone else, do you understand?"  
  
She nodded, looking as upset as he felt. "Why would he ask that?" she said, in a very small voice. "Does he _want_ you dead?"  
  
America motioned for her to come sit with him. She burst into tears and sank down on the floor beside him, burying her face against his shoulder. He held her close and stroked her hair, his hurt being replaced by anger--he didn't care how big a shock this was to England, what was he thinking talking like that in front of children? Couldn't he have waited two minutes till Virginia and New Netherland were out of earshot?  
  
"England's been gone eight years," he told Virginia. "You get priority over him. You and your brother both. Don't worry about what England says, I'm the one taking care of you and I won't let anything change."  
  
Virginia clung tighter to him. New Netherland kept on sleeping peacefully.  
  
***  
  
It was only after Virginia stopped crying and calmed down that America left the bedroom, looking for England.  
  
The country hadn't left the room they'd been talking in. He was standing still, for all appearances arguing fiercely with himself.  
  
"There was no leeway in how I worded that! I made sure there wasn't! But then how could this happen? Twice! _What did I say?_ "  
  
What was this all about?  
  
"Was I still drunk? Did it turn out to the opposite effect?"  
  
The hell with this; England could worry out loud later, after he was gone. America wanted a word with him over that bit of nastiness England had pulled in front of their little girl, and then he was making England leave. If England wanted ownership of the house, he should have stayed here, not taken off for nearly ten years. "England!"  
  
England turned around. He was pale and something in his eyes made America hesitate. The colony was about to go through on telling his guardian to get out, when England suddenly said, bluntly, "I used black magic on you."  
  
Caught off guard, America was silenced. Wasn't magic just a lot of fancy hand tricks? What did England's hobbies have to do with America's current problems?  
  
"I wanted to protect you," England continued, haltingly. "Even if I never drank again, how was I to know I'd never lose control some other way? Look how little it took for me to lose inhibition! What if someone else tried to do to you what I'd done? So I called on the arts, on your behalf. To give you protection from _everyone_."  
  
Was this some elaborate way to regain his trust? "You don't honestly expect me to believe that, do you?"  
  
"I know you think magic isn't real, but look at the facts! Our kind aren't supposed to procreate! It usually kills any of us! For you to do it more than once, without being harmed--I caused that. The timing of my incantation...I said it incorrectly, or I panicked and my intent was unclear. Whichever it was, something about the way I was trying to protect went wrong, and I gave you the ability to procreate instead."  
  
So he _hadn't_ been paranoid for no reason, in trying to keep his children a secret. He really _wasn't_ supposed to be able to have the children he'd had.

"I can leave," England said unhappily. "If you want me gone, America, I would understand completely."  
  
"No," America said, reluctantly, knowing Virginia wasn't going to like the change of plans. "I have questions for you. You're going to stay and explain everything to me. And if she'll have anything to do with you, I want you to talk to Virginia. She has a right to know her father, and she probably has questions too."


	7. Chapter 7

Virginia wanted nothing to do with her other father. America got tired of trying to talk her into speaking with England, but once he left (taking New Netherland), his daughter followed anyway.

"Curiosity getting to you?" he asked, after realizing she was coming after all.

Her expression twisted into deeper grumpiness, and Virginia refused to speak. This was where America would ordinarily make a sarcastic remark about her not trusting him with the baby, but Virginia had every right to be mad--he'd _told_ her he was kicking England out and now had gone back on his word. Better to leave her alone. She might warm up to the country after all of them got the answers they'd been wanting.

England had moved from the front of the house. America found him in the drawing room, not a room the colony used (he'd only even entered it in the last decade because he'd felt an unbearable need to clean it during one of his nesting episodes). The drawing room had nice wallpaper and rugs and America didn't want to take the chance of damaging anything in there, so he stayed out. It wasn't an interesting room and it was too formal for his personal comfort; England used it when he had official visitors over, or sometimes when other countries visited him.

They were all seated and America was expecting England to say something-- _anything_ \--to Virginia, when England instead said, "I was thinking this business over and I can't say for certain, but I might know why--"

"Don't you have something to say to Virginia?" America interrupted. He wanted answers, but first he wanted his child to get the apology she was owed.

"I don't want him talking to me," Virginia objected. She looked so cranky that some of America's hostility lifted; when ill-tempered, Virginia resembled England remarkably. It made chastising her a struggle.

England faced Virginia, who huffily ignored him. He took in the features she had which matched his (eyes, eyebrows, facial shape), the clothes she wore that were stylish and well-maintained (unlike America's clothes), while her hair--the same color as America's--was brushed but otherwise left alone. "I'm sorry I haven't been around," England said. "I didn't know about you, and I'm not saying that in excuse, it was that I've had so many places I have to be that I didn't give your...father...the attention he deserved."

America was too insulted by the pause before England called him Virginia's father to note England was apologizing for the wrong offense. "You're not thinking of me as her _mother_ , are you? I'm not a girl. You should know, even if we only once--"

"America, that is not an appropriate subject to speak of in front of a child!"

"Oh, and you were being appropriate _before_?"

"Why is he still here?" Virginia yelled, drowning out the voices of both her parents. Addressing America, she snapped, "He wants you dead! Make him go away!"

The baby woke up and looked irritated by the noise. America cradled his son, hoping he wouldn't start crying, and looked to England. "What you said? _Your_ problem to deal with."

Trying to be patient, England said carefully, "I did not wish America dead."

Virginia wasn't letting it go. "Then why did you say what you did?"

"It was a lot to come back to. I wasn't expecting any of this. I...reacted badly."

"Reacted badly?" America echoed, unimpressed. He started unbuttoning his shirt.

" _What_ are you doing, America?"

America stopped, surprised by England's sharpness. "What does it look like? Holding the baby, shirt opening, you can't figure it out for yourself?" He went back to undoing the buttons, then held New Netherland closer.

"Go do that somewhere else!"

There was an odd amusement to be had in his guardian choosing to be hung up over this, of all things, but America only got a few seconds of diversion; once New Netherland latched onto him, America was biting his lips at the tightness and prickling pain that started.

"New Netherland cries when he's hungry," Virginia abrasively informed England. "I doubt you'd be bothered, making a defenseless baby cry, but if you can't handle the sight of him eating, you can always go to another room yourself. It's not your home, that would be the _polite_ thing to do."

"I built this house," England admonished.  
  
"You may have built it, but it's America's now. You haven't done anything for it and he has."  
  
They probably weren't going to be getting along anytime soon, so America intervened. "Stop arguing and start explaining. England--what do you know?"  
  
He looked torn between reproaching his daughter and criticizing America, but England sighed and said, "This is just a theory. I can't prove anything. There's no way for me to know now what incantation I used, and for all I know, I could have cast it correctly and it worked, just not in any solution obvious to us."  
  
"You're a _witch_?"  
  
"Virginia, stop talking," America warned, before the child got any ideas. False accusations weren't a minor matter, and he didn't think he would ever become desensitized to witch-hunts or any other ways the settlers came up for dealing with the unnatural. "You used magic to do this, can't you use magic to find out what you did?"  
  
"It doesn't work like that. There's a cost to using magic, and finding out exactly what you used isn't a strong enough reason to pay that cost."  
  
"So you can't do anything. You can't answer anything."  
  
"That's not true! I said I have a theory!"  
  
Why were they in this room? The chairs were uncomfortable and America was having a harder time nursing his child due to all the shifting around he was doing. "Go on."  
  
"The names of your children are the same as the names of the settlements. What was the reason for that?"  
  
America wasn't really sure how to explain. "I didn't have many naming options, and what I did have, none seemed to fit either of them." Virginia was already a proper name, and with New Netherland, America had thought he'd been out of it from the birth and gotten some absurd, sentimental determination to name the baby after the other parent. In retrospect, the settlement's name had come to him, and just sounded right, where normal names had not.  
  
"What if my attempt worked, but the way it worked was by changing things about you? You were already much stronger than established countries. What if your strength was being spread out?"  
  
"What, like these two are supposed to _protect_ me? How would that even be possible?" The time Virginia tried using his rifle flashed before America's eyes, and he refused to acknowledge there could have been any sense to that incident. His daughter had gotten carried away, children _did_ stupid and dangerous things when they weren't being watched.  
  
"Not literally. Virginia's mine, that one's Netherlands's--you've got something of ours, it would be stupid to allow harm to come to our assets."  
  
How were his children an asset to anyone else? America loved his daughter and son, but they were responsibilities, and that was it. They weren't even the responsibilities of their other fathers! "You didn't know about Virginia till today. Netherlands still doesn't know about the baby. Neither of you have been any help, where does caring about what's yours come in? Your theory is wrong. Accept it, England, your spell failed. That's all."  
  
Virginia stood up and gave England a dirty look. "You cursed my father?"  
  
"Be grateful, you wouldn't exist if I hadn't."  
  
"I'm grateful to _him_ , not _you_!"  
  
"You appreciate me after all! How nice." America was losing interest in this whole matter. So England had nothing, if that jumbled guesswork was anything to go by. Well, would concrete explanations have _helped_? He had children to take care of either way. A weird calmness was settling over America. It wasn't sleepiness and it was too nice to be apathy; he only felt it while nursing the baby.  
  
"Aren't you going to do anything?" Virginia asked America.  
  
Distantly, America answered, "I'm probably going to go to my room. Sitting on my bed would be better than sitting on this chair."  
  
She grew red-faced and pointed at England. "About _him_!"  
  
"Oh. Right. England, you're not sleeping with me. I might get pregnant again."

Virginia had seen her father get like this enough times to no longer be alarmed by his mood swings, but she never ceased being irritated by her father's carelessness. "So you're going to let him stay? With him admitting what he's done? He hasn't even apologized to _either_ of us!" She stomped out of the room, slamming the door on her way out.  
  
"Are you still at it?" America asked the baby, who was rooting against him. America repositioned his son, got up, and left the room as well. He called back to England, "You know where everything is. And I meant what I said, you're not allowed in my bed. Sleep in one of the other bedrooms, your old room is now Virginia's."  
  
He didn't know where his daughter had gone and he didn't check; America just headed back to his bedroom.  
  
There, he set New Netherland down on the bed and poked at his tiny hands and feet while the baby waved his little arms around and made happy squeaking sounds at this game. Seeing the baby go from indifferent to laughing cheered up America. Like all the times he couldn't get any sleep because the baby wanted to eat every other hour, or the baby wouldn't keep quiet unless America was walking around while holding him, all it took was New Netherland suddenly smiling or doing something else that showed off his developing personality to melt America and make him not lose his mind.  
  
"I don't even remember what your father looks like," he said softly, wiggling his fingers inches from the baby's face. "I keep looking at you, trying to see if you look like me or you look like him, and after a year, I can only remember he's tall and has spiky hair. You've got the hair, but I can't even say now what color his was. Blond? Brown?"  
  
New Netherland cooed and grabbed at America's fingers.  
  
"I'm not asking _you_ , you couldn't possibly know." America smiled at the baby, tracing the little fingers curling around his.  
  
"Netherlands has brown hair and amber eyes," England said, from the doorway. "Light brown, it would be easy to mistake it for some shade of blond, if you were having trouble remembering."  
  
America resisted asking England what he was doing. It was annoying that these peaceful moments with his son were being intruded upon, but America also liked that England hadn't just taken off, after that disastrous meeting.  
  
England walked around the bed, sitting down opposite America. Looking down at the baby, he stared hard, then gently stroked New Netherland's wild hair. New Netherland, still clinging to America, watched England as if not sure what to think about this new person. "He's giving a look like Netherlands would, and his hair has a life of its own like Netherlands's, but really, he's still too little to look that much like either one of you."  
  
"I told you you weren't sleeping in my room."  
  
"The other rooms are dusty. I won't try anything shifty, I promise."  
  
It would be nice to have someone other than a child sleeping with him. "Fine. You won't be able to do much anyway, with the baby in the bed."  
  
"He sleeps with you? Don't you have a crib?"  
  
Where was he supposed to get extra _furniture_? "Maybe if you or Netherlands had ever helped out with your babies, I'd have useless things for them."  
  
Frowning, England quit paying attention to the baby. "A crib is _not_ useless. America, you can't have a baby in the bed. What if it smothered by you or the blankets?"  
  
This horrified America, who up till now, had never had any worries about sleeping with Virginia and New Netherland--the worst that ever happened was America not quite getting enough sleep. Was he endangering the baby, by not having a crib for him? Guiltily, America felt that if he could find ways of getting clothing for his children, he should have been able to find a way to step things up, and get a crib.  
  
Thinking America was being resistant, England continued reasoning. "I'm sure it's _easier_ , not having to get up to feed the baby during the night, but he shouldn't be eating much...er, how many times _do_ you feed him?"

"Whenever he wants," America answered, wondering if this was the wrong thing to say. New Netherland didn't get a lot from each feeding; frequently nursing seemed to even out everything. The baby didn't _look_ like he wasn't getting enough to eat, and his crying always sounded impatient, not like he was suffering neglect.  
  
"You're spoiling him."  
  
"He's three months old!" How many newborns had _England_ raised? None of the colonies had ever been that young!  
  
"There are certain things you have to do to properly care for a baby, America."  
  
America sat in awkward silence, eyes on New Netherland, trying to see some sign of mistreatment--why _else_ would England be telling him better ways of raising the baby? But New Netherland was alert and curious; Virginia had been the same way when she was his age, and she'd made it eight years without coming to harm, even with tampering around with firearms. He couldn't have been doing _that_ bad a job with his children.  
  
England leaned across over the baby and hugged America, in what was obviously meant to be a reassuring gesture. "You have me to help you now."  
  
While he tried to appear grateful, America couldn't shake off a sense of dread that England's "help" was going to create more problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> England's theory is right, but not in the way he thinks. 1959!America will lay out the whole of it.


	8. Chapter 8

Without Alaska and Hawaii in bed with him, America was having trouble falling asleep.  
  
He had slightly over four dozen states. It was second nature, adjusting to having children living with him, and America just as quickly woke up when one of his babies was being too quiet as he would have when one of them was crying. So while it was nice of Canada, trying to make America get some sleep, keeping the kids elsewhere in the house was not the best of way of ensuring America got what Canada was trying to provide.  
  
Canada didn't even have an understanding yet of either baby's habits. Hawaii got fussy if laid to sleep on her back; Alaska, when crawling, could shove anything short of the walls out of his way when he wanted to get somewhere in the house. America tried to warn Canada, but Canada had been mildly insulted, reminding America he'd helped with four of the six states he'd fathered. It wasn't as if he knew nothing about handling babies.  
  
Everything was quiet downstairs, so Canada must have been doing alright...  
  
***  
  
Having admitted he should have stayed out of things, it definitely felt to Canada like a bigger punishment than what fit the crime when Alaska decided to pull a disappearing act. One minute, the child was seated on the floor playing quietly. The next minute, he was no where to be seen when Canada looked up from America's contact information.  
  
"What? Oh crap, where is he?"  
  
The armchair was nudged away enough from the doorway for a baby to crawl through with ease. "How did I not hear that?" Canada asked, stunned, stepping up onto the chair and jumping into the hallway. "It's going to be just my luck if he gets into cleaning supplies and poisons himself to make me look bad..."  
  
Alaska was not in the hallway, nor was he hiding among the shoes, boots, and coats in the entryway of the house. The baby gate blocking the staircase was firmly in place. All the doors to the rooms on the first floor were closed, which left only the kitchen.  
  
"Please don't be making a mess," Canada mumbled, prepared for the worst, but as he entered the kitchen, he found Alaska had done nothing more destructive than pull on the tablecloth to knock down things from the table. The child was emptying out a salt shaker and took no notice of his uncle approaching.  
  
Canada grabbed the baby and lifted him off the floor. "Gotcha!"  
  
Alaska shrieked happily, then giggled as Canada gently pried the salt shaker out of his hands. "No, no, no!" he chanted, not sounding the least bit upset.  
  
"Did you dump all of it...? These are white tiles, couldn't you have emptied out the pepper? I'd be able to see that easily, to clean up..."  
  
He slipped Alaska into a high chair, then wet a hand towel and got down on the floor to deal with the salt. There was a crumpled up strip of paper under the table. To Canada's dismay, it looked official. Wondering how he was going to explain he couldn't even watch Alaska long enough to keep him from ruining government documents, Canada reached for the paper--and saw enough to make out it was an airline ticket. He relaxed; this couldn't be anything important. Most likely it was just leftover from all the traveling America had been doing lately.  
  
Expecting to be proven right on America having been in the southwest, Canada smoothed out the paper and looked at the starting point.  
  
" _Tokyo_...?"  
  
He then looked at the name on the ticket.  
  
"...Honda, Kiku?"  
  
***  
  
"Naps can get stuffed!" America was bored, and he'd heard Canada talking downstairs in serious intervals that didn't mesh with the type of talking a person did with babies. "He's probably on the phone. I barely answered anything he asked." This should have pissed off America, but he was curious himself, which, when combined with boredom, hindered his common sense.  
  
Yawning, he went downstairs. The living room was empty, except for Hawaii sleeping in the playpen. His folder containing all the telephone numbers and addresses he kept was out and open by the phone, cementing the phone conversations America thought he'd been hearing. He left the living room and went into the kitchen--where he found only Alaska, in his high chair. Seeing America, Alaska stretched out his arms in an obvious pick-me-up! plea.

America obliged, asking, "Where's your uncle gone?"  
  
Alaska thanked him by pulling his hair.  
  
"Stop it, stop it, stop it-- _ow_ \--quit that!" He got Alaska's hands out of his hair and annoyed, stared at him, while the baby laughed. "You're supposed to be a _non_ -evil version of your daddy."  
  
"Which one? You? Or Russia? Because it's kind of messed up if you only had him to have a harmless version of Russia."  
  
"Canada?" America turned toward the doorway, but his brother wasn't there. "Am I hearing things? I've never heard things _before_ , when I was tired..."  
  
"I'm _in the room_!"  
  
"Oh." America walked around the table. "What are you doing on the floor?"  
  
"Your evil, travel-sized Russia has it out for your kitchen."  
  
"Is that what happened...?" America regarded the cleared off table and the things on the floor without much interest. Alaska made another grab for his hair.  
  
Canada glared, then with no warning, blurted out, "Why do you have a flight ticket with Japan's name on it?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
" _This!_ " Canada waved a strip of paper.  
  
"Oh! Wait--he left that here? I hope he didn't need it...hey! Since we're both asking questions, I have some more for you. Who were you calling, the minute you got me out of the way? My states, or other countries?"  
  
Some of Canada's indignation eased; he looked a bit guilty at America calling out what he'd really been doing, under the pretense of helping.  
  
"If it was other countries, I'd like to be out of here tonight, so let me know if I should be packing."  
  
With it being laid out how serious America was over not wanting his whereabouts made known to the countries, Canada came clean. "I called New Mexico, then New York, then Virginia."  
  
America paid no attention to his son yanking on his hair as he considered the combination, intrigued. "How'd you know the twins were at New Mexico's?" The girls were never apart, but it was anyone's guess, at any given time, whether they'd be at Arizona's home or New Mexico's, or visiting another of their siblings. Many of the states lived in small groups rather than alone; it was more convenient when aging happened so oddly to them, and it made living situations easier to have a older state around.  
  
"I thought Arizona wouldn't be an option."  
  
"But New Mexico would?"  
  
"She's your favorite state." Canada was looking weirdly exasperated.  
  
"No, she's not. Delaware is." Why would Canada think New Mexico was his favorite? Arizona was younger, if Canada was making assumptions based on who was last in line, excluding the baby states. Unless he'd forgotten which twin was oldest.  
  
"But...you pay more attention to New Mexico!"  
  
"If you haven't noticed, New Mexico's not totally right. I'm social, Mexico's social--New Mexico has no interest in anyone, that's not normal for any of my kids! I _worry_ about her, of course I'm going to pay more attention to the child having problems."  
  
"...that's all it is?" Canada looked comically confused, then quickly jumped on another bit of information. "Why is _Delaware_ your favorite?"  
  
The change in subject came so fast that America answered without thinking, "I'm not telling you that." How Delaware came to be was a good memory, but America did not want to discuss being intimate with Sweden. Ironically, for all that Sweden scared the crap out of most other countries and appeared to be the least desirable of bedmates, he'd made America feel _safe_. It had been the first time America _liked_ sex, not to mention the first time he'd been happy about having another child.  
  
Before Canada could ask any more invasive questions, America said, "So you're still going on about where I've been? And you're calling my states about it? This is gonna put a damper on your detective work, but I haven't seen Virginia and New York in almost two years. Did either of them tell you that? Their guesswork is usually right, but when they haven't seen me...they're probably going to be working off inaccurate information."  
  
"They didn't tell me they hadn't seen you." Canada was a bit down on suddenly finding out his efforts had been for nothing.

America laughed. "They really like screwing with you!" He loved when his states messed with other countries; America wasn't good with arguments, and rarely got one over on his brother. The states took being obnoxious to levels America could only dream.  
  
Instead of trying another inquisitive gamble, Canada frowned, stepped toward America, and placed his hands over little Alaska's, loosening the child's grasp from America's hair. "You shouldn't let him do that."  
  
"He's a baby, he doesn't know any better."  
  
"And he's not going to learn if you don't stop him."  
  
"They grow out of it. Babies go through grabby phrases." America wished he could ban other countries from telling him what to do with his kids. So he was a lenient parent. Who cared?  
  
"Did you invite Japan here?"  
  
"Again with the questions! _Yes_ , I invited Japan over. I was only going to stay overnight here, then go to New Hampshire's, but I couldn't sleep and my southwestern states made me promise not to watch the news or read any newspapers, so to kill some time, I made some calls and found out the schedules of the other countries, and coincidentally, Japan was going to be in DC soon. I stuck around and sent the invite, he knew without me saying that it was an offer to see Hawaii." He was hoping to distract Canada with the part about his states.  
  
Canada was not veering off track. "And Alaska?"  
  
"Are you out of your mind? I'm not fucking inviting Russia here, he doesn't even know there's a child _for_ that piece of land! His people owned that land first, and everyone knows how England fucked things up for me so the personifications living on the land aren't dying or disappearing, once I get ownership. You, Japan, and Mexico are the only ones who know about Alaska and Hawaii, everyone else is just going to assume the native personifications are all who are there. Do you know how many of the countries think _Texas_ isn't mine?"  
  
"I forgot," Canada said simply. "It's probably the same how I thought the colonies were just there all along, and England claimed them because he'd claimed you."  
  
"You and just about every other country, except France, thought that. Mexico and Spain can't even remember which states are theirs, and Mexico was the one who had the states she and I share! I think Spain confused her though, he kept claiming Utah was his and California wasn't, and then Mexico decided Utah was too polite to be one of hers, and they've both been thinking that ever since, even though Utah and California correct them all the time. Or maybe they decided to trade."  
  
"What the _hell_ are you talking about, America? What does that have to do with anything?"  
  
"Nothing, it just pisses me off."

The extra details _almost_ threw Canada, but then he got back to the original matter. "So Russia doesn't even _suspect_ there may be a child? With your relationship together?"  
  
Confused, America asked, "What relationship? We insult each other and argue. He just made so _many_ threats that I thought he'd be in for the kind of things I like, in the bedroom, only he totally didn't deliver, so that was a waste of my time, with all the hints I kept dropping that he never got! Fuckin' commie bastard!"  
  
"I...wasn't asking about your sex life."  
  
"You asked questions and you got answers. Stop complaining!"  
  
"Are you going to _tell_ Russia about Alaska? _Ever_?"  
  
"Hell, no," America said smugly. He hugged Alaska tightly and cooed at him, "You don't want to see Russia, do you? No you don't! No you don't!"  
  
Alaska only heard the cheerful tone his father was using and smiled delightedly.  
  
"You realize how fucked up this is?" Canada moralized, annoyed.  
  
"So?" America didn't look up from the affectionate attention he was lavishing on Alaska. "If it bothers you so much, why do you keep dragging up the whole sordid business?"  
  
Canada had no answer to America's mocking question; he _didn't_ have a good reason for why he was persisting, and he had no one to blame but himself, for finding out all he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I had a good time writing this part. Sweden was always my pick for the-first-time-America-thought-sex-doesn't-have-to-suck, but people are going to think France or Spain for that, so I wasn't saying anything up till now. I don't know if I was hoping for shock value or hoping people would find it funny. At first I just worked it in because I thought America would find Sweden calming, but it's going to help something else in the next part that I was having trouble figuring out, in connecting all the pieces of the story.
> 
> And basically the point of this whole weird ass conversation was that Canada (and others) make too many assumptions, and how America's states work is pretty much not understood by anyone.
> 
> Nothing's actually wrong with New Mexico, America's just seeing problems where there aren't any. Thanks for reading. ♥


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: miscarriage, child death

There was something of a blur cast over the time after England came back.  
  
Later, America's memories would be unreliable, and his states would bring up things for which America would have no recollection. His usual response would be turning the conversation to something else, or making remarks that were inappropriate of the situation. He would almost never admit he had no memory, and he certainly would never do something as sensible as _ask_ his children to elaborate on the things eluding him.  
  
To still expect a peaceful household, with England back in the picture, made about as much sense as America sticking one hand into the kitchen fire, getting burned, then sticking the same hand back in that fire thinking there'd be a different result. Sadly, America got through most things by clinging to blind optimism. The times he was proven wrong didn't matter; the colony was convinced that _the next time_ he suffered something out, everything would end in reward. Stubbornly refusing to see reality for what it was, America coped by repainting situations into being what he would have liked.  
  
Denial helped, considerably, in dealing with England.  
  
"I can't stay with you every day!" England would protest, when America complained. England's story never changed. "Settlers are spreading out in this country, I have to see where they're going and what's happening with them."  
  
"But you don't tell me anything you've found out." Not that this would make America feel better, but it got to him, how secretive England was being-- _England_ wasn't the embodiment of the people here, so why _shouldn't_ America know what was going on, if these settlers were his people?  
  
"Nothing is ever permanent. There's no reason to scare you over something that could easily be an entirely different story, the next time I look into it."  
  
"I _wouldn't_ get scared!"  
  
"You don't know that."  
  
"Neither do you!"  
  
"I'm a country. You're a colony. It's not your business, knowing anything."  
  
Begging didn't work, whining didn't work, reasoning that it was too much to take care of Virginia and New Netherland on his own wasn't going to be a good bluff, because he'd already been taking care of them without England's help and England knew it. America tried sex again, even though it never stopped hurting, but England took him up on it and just went out later to visit the settlers, leaving America in pain and lonely.  
  
***  
  
America wasn't _trying_ to get pregnant again.  
  
It made him nervous every time he and England were intimate. England never expressed concerns. America wasn't sure how to bring up the problem, so he didn't, and he had yet another hand-in-the-fire moment when England--having been gone for weeks--commented that America was getting fat. In the week prior to England's return, New Netherland had abruptly stopped nursing, and America was too distracted and busy, worrying over his child and mashing up solid foods for the baby, to notice any changes happening to himself until England pointed them out.  
  
"Another child won't keep me here, just so you know," England said stiffly, under the impression America's timing was deliberate.  
  
America was offended by the accusation, but he was even more upset at the thought of having another baby in the house. Considering the unfairness of it all, he let the accusation slide.  
  
"I'm not saying I don't want it," England went on, thinking America was being silent because he'd taken this as disapproval. "Just it's a lousy trick."  
  
"I didn't plan this."  
  
"You don't want it? Then why would you initiate all those times in bed?"  
  
How could England not notice how much America hated the sex? " _You_ want it?"  
  
"It might be nice," England said. Nonchalantly. Meaning he wanted it, but didn't want to admit he wanted it.  
  
America didn't like playing guessing games with England's emotions on a good day, and when he'd been given immediate criticism on something for which he'd be doing all the enduring, he was even less inclined to react charitably toward his guardian. "Do you just want to make sure you have an upper hand on Netherlands?"  
  
"It's not a competition!" England yelled furiously.

Angering England soothed America's bruised ego, and taunting was next on his list, but then he remembered he'd been about to feed New Netherland, so America settled for a wordless and grumpily rude exit.  
  
***  
  
Virginia was sitting on the kitchen floor, New Netherland squirming on her lap, as she tried shelling a boiled egg. "Stop pulling on me," she ordered her little brother.  
  
He jerked his head back and looked up at her so fast he nearly reverse-headbutted her. Staring as if he was considering obeying her, New Netherland then slapped the egg out of Virginia's hand.  
  
"Do you _want_ to eat dirt?" America had only wanted her holding the baby, not feeding him, but he hadn't come back and the eggs had cooled to lukewarm.  
  
New Netherland pulled at Virginia's dress again, then managed to get the edge of one of her sleeves into his mouth and started chewing.  
  
"That's revolting, you're getting my dress damp!" Virginia tugged the fabric out of New Netherland's mouth. She stretched across the floor, picked up the egg, decided since it was mostly still in the shell, it wasn't _too_ dirty to feed to her brother, and she went pack to picking at it. As she was removing the last of the shell fragments, America came in. Virginia waited cautiously, trying to see what kind of mood her father was in; he'd been tense lately and it was a considerable change from his sulking over England. Virginia had been slow to catch on, being as worried about New Netherland's sudden refusal to nurse as America.  
  
"I shelled one of the eggs, do you want me to add anything to it before I mash it up for him?"  
  
"What? Oh...maybe some milk." He seemed uneasy, and was making no moves to come get New Netherland. What was his deal? He hadn't been allowing Virginia to feed the baby solid food, having been acting like New Netherland no longer entirely depending on him as a food source was an outright _insult_.  
  
England entered the kitchen, temper riled. "America, what sort of example are you setting with your antics?"  
  
"You do _not_ get to lecture me this time."  
  
"America--"  
  
"Shut up! You're always leaving us alone! So you don't get to use _my_ children as a last-ditch effort to give yourself authority here!"  
  
Mindful of America's discomposure, England stopped and stood still, but he did not look sympathetic. "They're _not_ only yours."  
  
"You're not around enough to get the right to use them."  
  
"How is calling them mine using them? Will you calm down? You're getting completely worked up and I only said one thing."  
  
" _Don't_ come any closer to me."  
  
"Do you see me moving?"  
  
This somehow made America even angrier. He stormed past England, out of the kitchen.  
  
Virginia sat quietly, not sure what to make of that exchange. She didn't like England at all, but she didn't see how he'd done anything wrong this time. America had been ranting over nothing.  
  
England stood with his back to her and New Netherland, one hand pressed to his forehead, lost in thought. Finally, he turned around, startled when he noticed Virginia.  
  
She wanted to ask him what he and America had been talking about, because New Netherland wasn't England's, so what did he and America mean by "they"? But England looked nervous and guilty, and guilt wasn't something Virginia had ever seen from the country, even with him leaving America so often. She didn't ask the question running through her mind, as she waited for England to speak first.  
  
The front door slammed shut.  
  
England sighed. "If he wants to act like a child, then fine. I won't stop him." England moved to leave the kitchen, but stopped in the doorway. "Tell America I'll come back eventually."  
  
After a few minutes, Virginia heard the front door get slammed again.  
  
She was trying to process whatever it was that had happened when New Netherland unhappily whined, reminding her that her little brother still hadn't been fed. "Guess it's just us for a while," she told him, spoon-feeding him the egg and milk mixture. She got most of it into him, but it made a bit of a mess, so she gave the baby a bath, which passed more time. Then she held him while getting something for herself to eat.

She talked more than she usually did, telling New Netherland everything she was doing. Being alone in the house was frightening, and she felt a bit braver, even if she was only having a one-sided conversation with a baby.  
  
***  
  
America didn't come home that day.  
  
Virginia stayed up all night, waiting, then as soon as it was light outside, went out with her brother to look for America, hoping he hadn't been hurt. She was unable to track him.  
  
He didn't come back that day, either, or the next day, or the day after.  
  
***  
  
What if he'd _died_?  
  
Virginia didn't know what she was supposed to do, in the event of her father passing on. Did that obligate her to obey England, the next time the country was over? Should she send out letters, trying to contact Netherlands? Or would the welfare of her little brother fall entirely on her, as it already had the minute America left them alone in the house?  
  
She thought about having England for a father instead of America. All she had to go with were the lectures England was always giving. She didn't _know_ him. Their relationship consisted of her resenting him, and him constantly correcting her or asking why America hadn't taught her "more appropriate" skills. Virginia could run a household on her own, if needed, and she'd seen, from being in the settlement, that her clothes were perfectly adequate--what more did she need to know? Hairstyling? Twisting her hair into a bun sufficed! Embroidery? Unnecessary for repairing clothing! If it was so important an ability, why had England never given up a few minutes of his precious criticizing to _teach_ her?  
  
Virginia and New Netherland ate eggs, stayed outside during the day, and slept in America's bed each night that their father was gone. Her little brother might have been six months old and unable to speak or do much, but his presence was nevertheless comforting to Virginia. It would have been terrible if she was _really_ alone.  
  
***  
  
Roughing it in the wild offered America a much-needed breather from the monotony of the household and his children.  
  
The only worries of his day were gathering food and finding shelter for the night. The overnight cold wasn't the killing kind, not yet. He built lean-tos in the forest and snared squirrels, a time-consuming task because he had to watch the traps lest a larger predator take off with his kills. In the need to be quiet and patient, America was able to calm down.  
  
He didn't know how much time was left before this next baby would be born. 'Counting to nine' had worked with New Netherland only because Netherlands's visit was the first in a long time that America was with anyone, to be able to conceive. With England, there'd been several opportunities when it could have happened. He couldn't feel the child moving yet, but his stomach was curving outward so much that America felt stupid for not having noticed; his trousers fitting tightly should have been an unavoidable warning.  
  
Wanting to ignore the baby while there was still a chance for that, America kept a look out for natives, hoping for an encounter.  
  
England didn't like discussing them, but he'd alluded that some of them were the same as countries. All of America's settlers weren't British, so he deduced that it must be the same here as it was in Europe, and the people already here must be many groups as well. America had seen the natives from time to time, but never spoken with any. Even when he'd first appeared and had no bonds with the European countries, the people already here had wanted no contact with America. They had cursed at him whenever they saw him. America never understood their exact words, but he'd gotten the message.  
  
When he thought about it enough to stop feeling affronted and start thinking objectively, he had to admit his presence must come as a terrible sign to them.

But he hadn't done anything to them, and he was alone now and clearly harmless! Maybe they'd see that and stop staying clear of him!  
  
America never saw another soul, that whole time he was in the woods. He began thinking less about meeting anyone else like himself, and started missing his children and sleeping in a bed. When he no longer thought of the baby as an unfair responsibility, and instead saw it as a cute addition to his household that might be a comfort, now that New Netherlands wasn't tiny and helpless anymore and was only going to get less so, America decided to go home.  
  
***  
  
Virginia was surprisingly quiet, when America returned. He tried explaining about the natives, but somehow gave a mixed up ranting over England lying and saying they were moving west when they weren't, and Virginia looked less angry and more confused.  
  
"So you were with them?" she asked.  
  
"No," he answered impatiently. Hadn't she been _listening_? "They don't like me. They never have. Did England leave?" He was changing the subject, but there was no point deliberating, if she wasn't going to take in anything he'd been saying.  
  
"He did. He said he'll come back 'eventually'."  
  
Ominous words? Or Virginia could have been reading too much into it. "Oh, well. He knows where we are. I'm going to be too busy to listen to him, it's just as well he's away." He walked off in the direction of his bedroom.  
  
"New Netherland is fine, by the way," Virginia called after him, contemptuously. "So am I. If you were wondering."  
  
America kept moving. He supposed he should have asked, and seen his son before going upstairs, but he was tired and they'd be around whenever he woke up.  
  
***  
  
Afterward, Virginia was cold with America, but New Netherlands had missed him and was now crawling around and getting into everything, so America had his hands full and wasn't as sensitive as he probably should have been, concerning his daughter.  
  
England came back, noticed right away, and could not believe America was alright with this. "What did you _do_? She's being _civil_ toward _me_."  
  
"That's a good thing!"  
  
New Netherland crawled over to America, grasping onto his father's legs and pulled himself up, standing shakily. He was about to fall when America picked him up and sat him in his lap, rocking the child and further mussing his unkempt hair.  
  
England watched with the same bizarre sullenness he had whether America was playing with his son or just taking care of the baby's basic needs. "Does Virginia know there's going to be another baby?" he asked pointedly.  
  
"I haven't told her," America said innocently. He didn't want to give his daughter _more_ reason to be mad at him, and why should he deal alone with every detail regarding the baby, while England didn't have to worry? Virginia could find out when America _wanted_ her to. Although... "She might suspect."  
  
"It's noticeable," England said dryly. "You're not normally pudgy like this."  
  
America frowned, perturbed, and assumed the kicked-puppy look Canada used to use when they were both tiny. He rarely used it anymore but America copied it intentionally--and not out of being hurt. It made him look adorable and people rarely denied him anything, when he pulled it.  
  
It worked now, because England got up, and even with another country's baby on his colony's lap, England hugged America gently, being attentive of the changes to America's body that were making him achy. "I didn't _mean_ to call you fat," he said sincerely.  
  
Not exactly what America wanted. Well, whatever. He couldn't claim he _wasn't_ getting fat, though England was lying to make America feel better. Which was nicer than usual, for him.  
  
***  
  
His back was hurting terribly the next morning. America was an early riser, so England figured it was because of the baby that America stayed curled up in bed. Under the impression the colony was still sleeping, England left the room quietly, trying not to wake America.

"Must have been lying wrong, during the night..." Getting up and stretching his limbs would make him feel better, but when America sat up, he felt like vomiting. Groaning, he laid back down, rubbing his stomach. "I thought you were going to be a lot easier on me than your sister and brother," he told the baby. He hadn't been feeling sick at all with this one, and had hoped he would escape that nastiness completely. No such luck, it seemed.  
  
He lay in bed, feeling all the more nauseous. His back pain wasn't easing up and a heavy feeling was settling in him, probably from the urge to throw up. He needed to get up, before he wound up doing that in bed, and making a mess.  
  
Instead, he curled up tighter, hiding his face against the pillow England had used. It smelled faintly like the country, and America concentrated on that. Comforting, but he still hurt, in a way that wasn't the usual achiness of pregnancy.  
  
He swore, and got up. "I'm going to wet the bed if I stay here," he snapped.  
  
It was like his insides had been rearranged during the night. Dammit, he felt awful. Standing gave him an even weirder sensation, and depressed--who knew how many more months he had of this?--he awkwardly relieved himself into the chamber pot.  
  
Then he was aware of a coldness on his skin, and found out he was bleeding.  
  
***  
  
The bleeding was heavier, after he'd been on his feet, and America was sitting on a towel on the bed when England came back in.  
  
"What's wrong?" England asked, at once seeing the fear on America's face.  
  
"I'm bleeding," America told him shortly.  
  
"Lay back down," England ordered. "Maybe it's nothing, maybe it'll stop."  
  
America did as England said, but he knew this wasn't going to do any good. The pain and the heaviness to his body were too similar to what he'd felt when having Virginia and New Netherland. This baby wasn't going to live. It was probably dead at this very moment, if America was in the process of losing it. He held back a groan as a cramp hit him, while England tried to elevate his legs, and America rolled onto his side.  
  
England, realizing this wasn't going to end well, lightly rubbed America's back. He didn't say anything more, since there wasn't anything he _could_ say, in this situation, to make America less upset.  
  
***  
  
Not having the reward of a baby after going through all that agony made the ordeal feel more painful than the births of his daughter and son had been. It took roughly as long, and America never got a glimpse of the baby. England told him it wasn't a sight fit for his eyes, after it had been delivered. In pain and still bleeding, America was too weakened to protest, and he fell asleep while England was taking care of him.  
  
He in no way felt rested when England woke him.  
  
"Let me sleep," America moaned, wanting to cry. What kind of monster was England, not even letting him sleep without interruption, after that?  
  
"You've been sleeping long enough," England said, harshly. "I'm trying to make sure you don't die." He helped America so the colony was semi-sitting up, and held a tea cup to America's mouth. "Drink this, I don't care if you don't want it."  
  
The tea barely wet America's lips before he started gagging. England, acting fast, set it down and grabbed a towel for America to retch into.  
  
"How much sugar did you put in that?" America gasped. He _liked_ sweet things, and it was too much for _him_.  
  
"Sugary tea is supposed to help, after...with these kind of things." England's composure crumbled a little. "I hardly know anything you're supposed to do, for a birth, it's...improper for a man to be present. I don't know anything about..."  
  
Losing a baby, America thought, not able to say the words. "Fine, I'll drink it," he sighed. The tea was disgusting, and he was sure he was to throw up again, but England only made him drink half, then shifted over on the bed so America could sit up, supported by the country.  
  
"England...the baby. What did you do with it?"

"America, you don't need to know. It won't do any good."  
  
"Just tell me."  
  
"I buried it. You wouldn't have wanted to see it. It didn't look like a baby at all, seeing it wouldn't have made things any easier."  
  
"Was it a boy or a girl?"  
  
"Asking all these questions won't make it better," England pleaded.  
  
"If you don't tell me, I'll drag myself to the yard and dig up the body to find out," America snapped, though this wasn't going to happen and England knew there was no way America could manage.  
  
"I don't know," England admitted helplessly. "Like I said, it didn't look like a baby. I didn't look closely."  
  
America slumped against England, though knowing the gender wouldn't have made the situation better or worse.  
  
"We can have another baby. The next one will make you forget this."  
  
How could he say such a thing? Eyes burning, America pressed his face against England's chest. England, not comprehending anything wrong in what he'd said, held America tighter, thinking he was helping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, the camping trip didn't cause the miscarriage. It was going to happen no matter what. The blurred memories deal is just a coping mechanism, like the story said; the thing about the natives is more head canon on my part since I don't like ignoring the citizens before the settlers but I deeply hate the idea of making a single personification for all Native Americans; the miscarriage semi touches on the disagreements between settlements of the New World and the territories within the America of that time that didn't start or didn't last. The miscarriage is going to come up in the next part, in the case that this is actually convoluted instead of clarifying.


	10. Chapter 10

While England watched America sleep fitfully, the country tried thinking of what to do with the blood-soaked bedding. Scrubbing clothing in cold water removed blood, but the sheets were beyond salvageable. They should have been washed and torn up, to use for rags or bandages. But...  
  
"The fewer reminders left for America, the better. I should have buried the bedding, too." A little late for that. "It's drying, I can burn it..."  
  
England wasn't eager to be away from his colony. It had been a horrifying day. How could anyone bleed that much without dying? His spell was doing nothing he had been expecting! What if the existence of Virginia and that brat of Netherlands's was some far-sighted way of "letting" America live on, through offspring, and America himself was considered extraneous--and died despite England's attempts at protecting him? Spells that interfered with another soul often caused the worst possible outcomes, while holding true to the desires of the person doing the casting.  
  
 _Countries_ had personifications of places and population groups within them. _Colonies_ did not. Procreation meant replacement, and America hadn't been replaced. But Virginia and New Netherlands definitely weren't human. They had the names of settlements. America was harmed because harm was happening to the people. He had only appeared when European settlers showed up.  
  
Could America represent the _change_ to the population, and it was actually his _children_ who were representing the continually diverting swarms of people? It answered England's question of what had been sacrificed, if that spell had altered America's role in the New World, and America had to bear the players helping the show go on. Not a light task. But he had an absurd amount of strength, maybe that had been the ultimate deciding factor in how the intent of England's spell was going to be served.  
  
"So it did work," England said, with certainty.  
  
He became aware of crying echoing from farther away in the house.  
  
The last thing England wanted to do was attend to Netherlands's brat, but it had been, what? a day? more than a day? since he'd seen either of the children, and Virginia was a small child herself--letting her fend for both herself and her baby brother was asking too much. America would be fine, left sleeping alone for a short time; if he was going to die from miscarrying, England was sure it would have happened before now. That didn't stop his sense of apprehension as he left the bedroom, soiled bedding in his arms.  
  
Virginia was pacing outside the kitchen, holding New Netherland and patting his back as he cried miserably. She seemed too sleepy to regard England with her usual displeasure. "Where's America?" she asked dully, as England passed her and walked into the kitchen.  
  
"He's in bed." Damn it, the fire was down to embers.  
  
"Why? What's wrong with him?"  
  
England set down the bundle of sheets, grabbed a log, and poked around in the hearth. "He's ill. I'm taking care of him. He'll be fine. Just stay quiet, leave him alone, and let him rest and recover."  
  
"He's never ill, why would he suddenly get ill now, only once you're back?" She spied the bloodied sheets. "Is that _blood_? What did you do to America?"  
  
New Netherland wailed harder at his sister's raised voice.  
  
A small flame arose from the wood chips and ashes, and England ripped one of the sheets, feeding the piece to the fire so it increased and the log he'd put in would burn. He thought about what to say as he shoved in the remnants of the bedding. How the hell was he going to explain losing a child to his daughter? Did she even understand that people died?  
  
"America. What about him? What did you do to him?" Virginia persisted, disturbed by the blood on the sheets and by how long England's silence was lasting.  
  
"There was another baby. It's gone now." As Virginia was ruminating on this, England took the howling baby. New Netherland quieted but did not calm--he bit England's wrist, then chomped on the country's fingers. The baby didn't have any teeth, yet it hurt like hell. Trying not to swear, England asked, teeth gritted: "When did he last eat?"  
  
"I haven't been able to get him to eat. He wants America," Virginia said forlornly.

"So do I," England muttered. How old was the baby? Six months? Seven? Was he able to eat solid food only, or did New Netherland need America still? Remembering the times in bed he'd shared with his colony, England blushed as he remembered--with an abundance of self-recrimination--some of the depraved things he'd done to America. He'd been extremely interested in America's new ability of lactating, and from lapping at the boy's chest, had been surprised to find the milk tasted like sugar water.  
  
England gave New Netherland a bit of bread slathered with blackberry preserves, reasoning the baby would want to eat sweets. This appealed to New Netherland. He stopped biting England and went about making a mess on himself and the country, in his crusade to eat only the jam.  
  
Virginia had little motive to be unkind to England when he was taking care of her baby brother, and she stood at his side listlessly.  
  
"Have you been awake this whole time?" England asked.  
  
She nodded.  
  
The poor child. And she'd been trying to take care of her brother...! England hesitantly patted Virginia's hair, the same color as America's but so much softer (it had the same silkiness as Canada's, curiously), then clumsily rubbed her tensed up little shoulders. He had never touched his daughter before, in all his visits in the last few months.  
  
Too tired, worried, and scared to continue nursing her grudge against her other father, Virginia huddled closer to England, finding security in his presence that she could not get at this time from America.  
  
***  
  
America jostled Alaska up so the state was peering over his shoulder. To Canada, America asked, "What did Mexico tell you?"  
  
"She wasn't one of the ones I called."  
  
"When you came to see me after Alaska was born."  
  
Confused, Canada thought for a moment. "Almost nothing. She called, told me you'd had the baby, then said I'd better show up because she sure as hell wasn't staying with you."  
  
"And you didn't wonder why she'd say that?"  
  
He _had_. That didn't mean Canada _wanted_ to know, especially when he'd arrived at the house to find Japan of all people there, looking horribly embarrassed and being reamed out by Mexico. Naturally, Canada had thought it was a fight between the two, and he was not comfortable prying with Mexico the way he felt free to pry with his brother. He'd been blown away when months later, he heard about Hawaii and realized that Japan had been paying a visit to _America_ , not Mexico. Which was repulsive, because that meant Japan and America had been doing the nasty only days after America had given birth to Alaska, and postpartum sex was not something Canada wanted to imagine.  
  
Was America _disappointed_ that Canada wasn't arguing with him?  
  
"You were sitting on rock solid blackmail material," America said in disbelief. "Why didn't you cash in on that, instead of trying to be sly?"  
  
What was that supposed to mean? "I missed something." If he'd suspected he had any bargaining tools to be used on America, Canada would have taken full advantage of them.  
  
"I wasn't going to say anything. To tell the truth, I was hoping you wouldn't bring it up, and well, you _haven't_ , but--"  
  
"Let me guess, you're too curious by why I'm _not_ curious to let it go." Was this a lapse of common sense, or was America purposely baiting for his own amusement? Either was fitting for the nation.  
  
"You came at Mexico's request to help me with Alaska. I went AWOL on you after only a few weeks."  
  
How was _that_ blackmail material? "It was a stressful time for you. You were hiding a child, you had that meeting with your boss--you knew that early on that Hawaii was on the way, didn't you? The first Hawaii was still around, there were people panicking that he was going to die, if the territory became a state, and all the countries were going to be blaming you if that happened. Anyone could see why you'd want to get away from government settings, have time to clear your head."  
  
"So walking out on you with no word while being in questionable shape is okay, but not laying out an itinerary the minute you ask isn't?"

He _was_ baiting. For the hell of it, or was America actually taking it personally? He wasn't Canada's responsibility, but Canada was not entirely pleased with himself for letting America go so easily. He'd tried to find him--later on, when he found out there was another state. What if America had needed him before then? How helpful could the states really be? A lot of them still were no bigger than small children!  
  
His brother wandered out of the kitchen. Canada pursued him into the living room. Looking in on Hawaii, who was still sleeping, America then sat on the couch.  
  
Canada sat down also, wordlessly.  
  
America cradled Alaska. The boy was looking drowsy. Suddenly, America asked, as if he hadn't been withholding information all along, "Do you want to know what happened, before you arrived to help with Alaska?"  
  
"If you _want_ to speak of it, I won't tell you to shut up." This was probably going to end in Canada finding out yet more he would have rather not known, but America sounded like he wanted to tell. Had it all been a matter of waiting to be asked a certain way?  
  
"Things didn't go too well, with him. It should have been much easier, because Mexico bought Demerol off some medic she knew, so less painful delivery, right? Only she and I thought it was going to take a much larger dose to have any sort of effect."  
  
"Did it work at all?"  
  
"It worked _too_ well. I couldn't feel anything. I tried pushing, Mexico said I wasn't, I tried again, and still wasn't. She had to press on my stomach to get the kid out. I was so messed up I didn't even know what was happening at that point." He frowned in memory, then unbelievably, brightened, as if he'd been regaling his brother with a harmless story of losing his house key, but during the telling, had remembering the location. "Somehow, I thought that was going to be a bigger story than what I've got, but it's not much of a story at all!"  
  
Canada was dumbstruck by his brother's flippancy. Was America just _so_ scatterbrained that he truly thought what he'd been through was of little significance? Or was he traumatized and speaking lightly of it the only way he _could_ react?  
  
America rambled on. "Mexico was pretty upset, but I didn't even feel like shit until after I'd woken up after sleeping off the Demerol, and man! I think the only time I've bled like that was the first time I had a miscarriage!"  
  
"When did you--?" Was he hearing right?  
  
"Third time I got pregnant. I don't know what _that_ one was supposed to be. Maybe none of the settlements, specifically. I think it might have represented more than one settlement going up. Going under."  
  
***  
  
When England told America they could have other babies, he had only been saying the words out of comfort. Having watched his colony suffer a miscarriage, England didn't think he'd ever want to be intimate with America again.  
  
America, however, felt entitled to what England had promised, and miscarriage be damned, turned relentless about getting another baby.  
  
He sought out Virginia's help. "Wouldn't you want another little brother or sister? You could dress up the baby!"  
  
Virginia side-eyed little New Netherland. He had exactly one other change of clothing, the same as what he was presently wearing--an old shirt of America's, torn up and sewed up to baby-gown-sized. "Can you even afford brand new clothes for a baby? I thought the point of dressing New Netherland in _your_ old shirts was because it was too impractical, putting a lot of money and effort into something he'd make a mess on every day and outgrow in months."  
  
This delayed America, in coming up with an answer. He hadn't actually thought out his proposed incentive. "Well, England's here, _he_ can buy clothes for it!"  
  
"I am _not_ buying anything because we are _not_ having another baby."  
  
"You're horrible! Refusing to buy clothes for your children!"  
  
Annoyed, England pointed out, "This discussion is moot. Stop making baseless accusations."  
  
" _Would_ you buy new clothes for a baby?" Virginia asked, in a way that had England wondering if she'd changed her mind, and had chosen to side with America.  
  
"Well-- _yes_ , babies should be dressed properly--"

"Then if you have money to throw around, instead of a baby brother or sister, can I have a pony?"  
  
"If she gets a pony, I get a baby!"  
  
"How is that fair? You've already had two, and New Netherland is _still_ a baby. I should get a pony before you get another baby!"  
  
"No one," England said loudly, "is getting anything--except me. I'm going to the settlement and getting a newspaper."  
  
As he left the house, he could hear America and Virginia keep up their ridiculous argument, and though bothered by America's tenacity, England couldn't help feeling a twinge of gratitude that at least Virginia was acting like a child. He'd been worried over the child's seriousness.  
  
***  
  
Admittedly, he could have done a lot more to stop America's quest.  
  
They still shared the same bed, and America was a chronic cuddler, so England had little warning when America suddenly pulled moves that were _too_ affectionate. Yes, it felt incredibly good when America was kissing and licking his ear, but he couldn't allow that, could he?  
  
"We're not doing this, I told you no, America."  
  
America nibbled England's ear.  
  
"Fuck..." Damn it, the boy was _good_ at picking up pleasing things from their handful of previous encounters. This surprised England; though America had been ready and willing every time, he did not actually seem to enjoy what England did to him. England didn't get why the boy persisted.  
  
In spite of his intentions, England kissed America, hands sliding down the colony's body. Incredibly, there was no indicator that he'd recently miscarried--America was exactly as he'd been when England first came back from his long absence. Even the puffiness to his chest was gone, now that he wasn't nursing Netherlands's brat. Caught up with the warmth of America's superb form, England just wanted do everything he could to lay claim to the colony.  
  
"We could sleep," America said, "or you could fuck me."  
  
With a tiny groan, England considered putting a stop to this, and going to another room to sleep. But he didn't want to be an upstanding guardian, he wanted to be balls deep in America pounding away till neither of them could move afterward.  
  
Why was it so important to abstain? America was big enough to be having sex, and if England didn't provide, the boy would just get it from someone else! Wasn't it safer, providing America what he wanted, rather than chancing him ending up with someone dangerous?  
  
America rubbed up against England.  
  
"Fuck," England groaned again, and pressed America to the bed. Penetration wasn't the only way to get off. Grinding his painful hard-on against the colony, England momentarily felt relief, but then the added sensation of the fabric got to be too much. He groped America through the boy's clothing, and thrust against him frenziedly.  
  
Some part of England realized this couldn't be doing much for America, and in fact, America was lying still, perplexed over what England could possibly be attempting, because the country had more or less stuck to routine sex.  
  
Feeling heated and getting breathless, England stopped groping America and tried grinding harder, feeling a build-up that was coming far too soon. England came, uncomfortably, still clothed. He laid limply on his colony as America finally realized what had happened.  
  
"What was the point of that?" he groused.  
  
"Sorry, lost my head," England semi-apologized. He was already regretting giving in. The experience hadn't been exactly what America had been trying for, but England had a feeling that somehow, power dynamics had changed, at least in the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was not supposed to be good sex, so I'm comfortable writing bad sex in this part. :p
> 
> It turns out I lied, and 1600s!England, not 1959!America, gives the entire theory of how England's spell worked.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: aftermath of a miscarriage, unhealthy coping mechanisms, more graphic descriptions of childbirth

Canada tried to listen sympathetically to his brother, but some parts of this trainwreck weren't making sense, and questioning was not something he wanted to do lightly.  
  
He'd already annoyed America once today, with uselessly belated outrage. Canada felt so bad for his brother that he kind of wanted to hunt England down and punch him, even with all this long in the past. But...the America of today was a far cry from the colony of the 1600s--America had no trouble giving England hell. Did that mean whatever had happened between them was cleared up? How could anyone act the way those two did, if there were lingering grudges that big?  
  
"England just gave in, just like that?" Canada had his arms around his brother ever since the unexpected miscarriage comment. Alaska, silent in America's arms, was looking up at both his father and his uncle, uncertain why they had gotten so serious. "He let you think you could replace the baby you lost, then when you tried, he took advantage of you being confused?" How was he supposed to hear something like this, then _not_ act on it, while knowing?  
  
"England said we could have another one, he didn't say a new baby would replace the one that died. I reached _that_ oversight myself."  
  
"Okay," Canada said skeptically. "You decided you wanted a new baby. That was _your_ choice, you _weren't_ pressured. Fine. But for that time period--if England was so concerned, how do you explain him knocking you up eleven more times in a row, before you became a country?"  
  
"Eight more times," America corrected nonchalantly.  
  
"Eight...?"  
  
"Delaware is Sweden's. New Jersey is another of Netherlands's. And Pennsylvania is Prussia's!"  
  
Wondering why he was more surprised about Prussia being one of the fathers than Sweden, Canada, unfazed, told his brother, "Eight times isn't any better."  
  
"Yeah it is! That was a long time to have that small a number of kids!"  
  
Reminding himself that America was holding a highly impressionable child in his arms and that pulling his brother's hair or pinching his face would be a bad idea, Canada tried to bring up another reason. "There was a war going on in Europe. How did England have time to go fight with the other countries, and knock you up...seven times?" It was a stab in the dark, but with America's next answer, apparently a lucky guess.  
  
"Because the last of those two weren't his, and two of the ones that _were_ his are twins, so that was only four pregnancies. He didn't leave right away, he missed almost a year of the war to cover some things over here, making sure resources were going to Europe, and Massachusetts was started on the last day England saw me. It was only because he felt guilty for leaving that I managed to even get a new baby."  
  
Not eight, or seven, but four. With trips back and forth, Canada could see how England might slip up four times, especially if America played on the country's guilt. "So he just _caved_ \--on being careful with you, after coming back and finding you'd had Massachusetts?"  
  
"I told him I wanted another daughter."  
  
That covered New Hampshire and Connecticut, both boys. Canada hadn't know Connecticut and Maryland were twins, but thinking on it, they'd been born the same year, hadn't they? "But Maryland's a girl, after her, there's Rhode Island--"  
  
"--who was an accident. Hey, it happens. But just between you and me, don't ever tell him I said he was an accident. It's not like I'm sorry I had him."  
  
***  
  
America took it rather hard when England spoke of having another baby, but never did the colony interpret the words to mean England thought one baby could replace another.  
  
America took the statement to mean England didn't care about the loss of their child.  
  
The country never showed sorrow nor relief. Perhaps America should have been grateful--that England's lack of caring did not include _him_. England had been worried sick the entire time America was laid up. He himself took care of New Netherland, just to make sure America would be spared the stress, in not being with his son. America liked England doting on him again. The country hadn't lectured him or blamed him once for the miscarriage, but this was _not_ welcomed, because otherwise, England was acting like the baby had never happened.

Loss was something America didn't know how to deal with. Since England was ignoring it, America tried to get over his confusion and keep from feeling grief by pouncing on the idea that having another child would be a cure-all.  
  
Thinking about having another baby was a much-needed distraction.  
  
America was so invested in getting another child that without meaning to, he began believing a new one could erase the unhappy memory of the dead one.  
  
***  
  
Except when America was recovered enough that he could pester England for sex, in his trying to start another baby, England began resuming his many trips away. He stopped often enough at the house so America didn't feel right complaining, especially in light of how attentive England had been to him during the miscarriage.  
  
Ironically, England being away made America's attempts easier. England's self-control was weaker when he had little time with his colony, and he was finding America irresistible. Being gone more often than he was home, it was no trouble for America to lure England into the bedroom, and it was only a matter of time before he'd have England properly screwing him again.  
  
Which was proving to be a convenient means to an end for America's cause, but he still had no idea what England was doing, to need to be gone as much as he was.  
  
***  
  
His children, of course, were always a distraction, probably now more than ever, because Virginia, once so unnaturally responsible, was no longer willing to forgo acting her age.  
  
She had taken to hiding under the house any time America tried to make her do something she didn't want to. New Netherland had teeth coming in, and was vocally distressed over it, unless using his father or sister as a chew toy, and this fell into the range of things Virginia did not want.  
  
"Virginia, I need you to watch your brother. I want to go to the settlement and see if England's there."  
  
"Can't you take him with you? I don't want to watch him."  
  
"I wasn't _asking_ if you wanted to watch him. Just do it, it'll only be for a few hours."  
  
"He bites! I don't want him biting me!"  
  
"Smack him on the nose if he bites you!"  
  
"That's _mean_! He's not a puppy."  
  
"Do you have a better way to get him to stop?" Silence. "Then get bitten!"  
  
She sulked for precisely ten seconds--then bolted from the room.  
  
"What--?" The door slammed, and America swore; there'd be no getting out of parenting his youngest today. Dammit. "I miss when you were littler," he told New Netherland.  
  
New Netherland did not look like he cared. In the process of chewing on the buttons on America's shirt, the baby paused to rub his face against his father's shoulder, drooling over even more of America's clothing.  
  
"I can't go into the settlement with my shirt looking like this," America groaned. He hated washing clothes, but while he could get away with letting his son's saliva dry on him, the rags he used to diaper the baby were going to need to be cleaned. And if Virginia was crawling around under the house, her dress was going to be one more thing that would be looking rough, once she got out from under there.  
  
He offered a forefinger for New Netherland to teeth on, to give his shirt a break, then went outside to try and coax his daughter out of hiding from her sanctuary beneath the house.  
  
***  
  
America wasn't at all prepared for England to come back with news he was leaving for Europe.  
  
"There's a war going on. I put it off as long as I could, but I can't stay away any longer."  
  
He couldn't leave now! He'd barely been back! "Don't you have soldiers? Why do _you_ need to be there for that? You have people here, isn't that reason for you to stay?"  
  
"I've already put off joining it longer than I should have," England patiently explained. "With travel time, getting back, I'll have missed almost the first year of it."  
  
"That long? It's been going nearly a year? All those visits--have been about the war in Europe? What was the point in keeping any of that a secret from me?"  
  
England's patience faded a little. "Come off it, you know very well that if I had told you the European countries were at war with each other, you'd be bothering me constantly, asking if I'd be going too."

"So?" America said belligerently, because he knew it was true, he felt stupid for it, and he still didn't think that was a good enough reason for England to be keeping secrets from him.  
  
"So maybe I didn't want to deal with that, with everything else that was going on, there and here." He didn't look too put out, though, and he stroked America's face gently. "Like you said, I've got people here. I'll have to come back. Maybe often."  
  
Some good came of the bad news: England didn't have the willpower to keep himself off America, that night. Unfortunately, America was too depressed about England leaving to be hopeful he'd get another child from this.  
  
***  
  
As if _because_ he'd stopped hoping, America found out some months later that he was pregnant again. It was an easy pregnancy--he didn't even realize this one until he started really gaining weight--but America was not feeling the relief he'd expected to feel, and all he wanted was to have this baby so he'd stop feeling so upset every time he thought about the miscarried one.  
  
He was sorry he had to tell Virginia. She'd been getting along so well with England! What else could he tell her, though? They lived together! She'd never believe him if he tried to say it was someone else's child, and England would debunk that the minute he got back, then America would have two people mad at him.  
  
Thankfully, there was New Netherland to cheer up America.  
  
The baby had been pulling himself to a standing position ever since he'd started crawling. Now he actually had enough lower body strength to stay on his feet. By taking the baby's hands, America was able to lead his son around, and the child could take a few steps, unaided, even if he couldn't get far before falling.  
  
If it hadn't been for New Netherland, America didn't think Virginia would be on speaking terms with him. She wasn't angered about there being another baby, she was angered that America allowed this _knowing_ England wasn't going to be around to help.  
  
"You do know _he_ "--she pointed at her little brother--"is going to be fully capable of running around by the time the new one's born?"  
  
"I think I could have figured that one out for myself, thank you, Virginia," America said patronizingly.  
  
She did not dignify the snub. "So what are you going to do, when you have the baby and a toddler _both_ to take care of?"  
  
He was going to _make_ her help him, like she'd helped with New Netherland, but if he said that, she'd only argue with him, so America did not answer. He lifted New Netherland up and tried to get him to walk a few more steps.  
  
Virginia, deep in thought, watched her baby brother stagger around for a few minutes, before she left the room. America wondered what she was up to.  
  
***  
  
For being so adamant that New Netherland and the coming baby were America's problems only, Virginia was still quite helpful. She looked after New Netherland so America could get things done around the house and property, and she went to the settlement to pick up things they needed, like flour or kerosene (Virginia was very strong for a little girl, but America wouldn't let her buy any amount of things that would look suspicious for her to be carrying on her own throughout the settlement).  
  
There was definitely a shift in their relationship. Virginia was a little more distant from America, a little more self-preoccupied. America was relieved; he needed her help, but he wanted her acting like his _daughter_ , not a know-it-all little sister. If she was developing a tendency to be scornful toward him, fine, for all he knew, she could have inherited that from England.  
  
And she did things to balance out her moments of disdain. Unlike when America had been pregnant with New Netherland, and Virginia had obeyed the orders he gave, she was now deciding on her own what was safe for America to do and what she should take care of, instead of watching him and worrying. It would have been a lie for America to say he _didn't_ appreciate chores like firewood and water brought to the house being taken over by his daughter, when the pregnancy was giving America a constant backache that was aggravated even when picking up his son.  
  
***

Whatever her feelings were about her father, Virgina was still genuinely devoted to her little brother. "America, America, he just said something!" she insisted one day.  
  
America couldn't remember when Virginia had started talking, and even though New Netherland was over a year old now, he thought maybe that was too young. The child couldn't even walk in a straight line. "Are you sure?"  
  
"He _did_. I heard him!" She picked up her brother and tried to make him look at America. "Say it again, New Netherland. Say America's name."  
  
New Netherland squirmed, wanting down.  
  
"Say it! You already said it once. Say A-mer-i-ca."  
  
"Murk?"  
  
That didn't sound anything like his name. "He's just babbling. It's a coincidence, he's not talking."  
  
"Murk!" New Netherland chirped.  
  
"He is _too_ talking. Don't worry, _I_ noticed, New Netherland." Virginia hugged her little brother, ignoring his struggling to be put down.  
  
"Murk! _Murk_! Murk!"  
  
Hearing that was going to get really annoying, really fast. He was pretty sure that was the reason why Virginia was encouraging it.  
  
***  
  
"So _were_ there any problems?" Canada asked.  
  
"Everything was fine," America said, going inexplicably gruff. It was a huge difference from how he'd sounded, prattling off how Virginia had used New York to harass him. "In the end, I was worried over nothing. I had Massachusetts, Virginia helped with New Netherland, everything was fine."  
  
Why the sudden change in tone? "And you didn't have _any_ problems, being reminded of the one between New Netherland and Massachusetts?" He didn't like asking the question, but it was incredibly weird how America showed no emotion over what should have been a grim time.  
  
"I got over it." America sat up straight, pulling away from his brother, and shoved Alaska into Canada's arms. "I'm going to check on Hawaii. It's been a while since she's had a diaper change."  
  
***  
  
He couldn't stop worrying what was going to happen once he had the new baby. America was unable to tell if this was from nervousness brought on by the pregnancy, or if he was picking up some hostility from his daughter.  
  
It was something he never got to discuss with Virginia.  
  
If his daughter and son and the miscarried baby were anything to go by, America was expecting to spend a few days with a backache and cramps, then at least one extra day trying to expel the child--except the gross details surprised him early on, and America got trapped in his bedroom because instead of preceding the birth with days of pain, _then_ leaking blood and water before having the baby, America started doing everything at the same time. Well, not the giving birth part.  
  
Silently thanking his daughter for keeping New Netherland in her bedroom to sleep, America took off everything but his shirt, inwardly groaning at the mess on his clothes. Dammit, more to clean. He gave the mess on his thighs a cursory swipe, then towel in hand, paced around the room, wincing at the cramps and halfheartedly hoping if everything was coming at him all at once, maybe that would mean this would be a shorter delivery. He doubted that, however--he didn't feel any of the pressure he'd felt in the hours when pushing with his other children. It was probably going to take a long time, just like the other times, to birth this one.  
  
"Just my luck I get to deal with the mess and losing sleep early on," he complained, not knowing if he was telling this to himself or to the baby.  
  
He tried lying down for a while, reasoning that surely he was so tired he could sleep even through contractions, but being in bed made his back hurt too much, so he got up and continued walking from one end of the room to the other. The annoying thing about this was it made the contractions slightly less painful, which would have felt better if it wasn't such a discouraging sign; things were slowing down, and America wanted this over with _now_.  
  
What the hell was he supposed to do when he got too tired to be on his feet?  
  
The answer to this came with Virginia knocking at his bedroom door. America was kneeling by his bed, arms up on the mattress, which made him feel like he at least had gravity in his favor. He didn't notice any outside noises until his daughter started yelling through the door.

"America! Did you _die_ in there?"  
  
He was strongly tempted to yell back that the only person dying that day would be her, if she didn't shut up, but instead he swore. Loudly.  
  
"...are you having the baby?" Virginia called, like it had just occurred to her this might be happening.  
  
"Where's your brother?" he asked.  
  
"Downstairs. Um...it's been a while since you washed anything, do you have any clean clothes?"  
  
He had _not_ let the laundry go that long. He _couldn't_ have. He knew he was running out of time before this baby would arrive, and it would be a pain trying to wash anything while caring for a newborn. Had he seriously let that slip?  
  
"Because I can try and wash some things, if you need me to," Virginia kept yelling.  
  
"And just get everything wet, as well as dirty," he hissed, clenching onto the blankets on his bed.  
  
Of course she heard that, when it was the one thing America didn't want his daughter hearing. "Well, then!" she called. "I'm going! Outside. To wash things. And I'm taking New Netherland with me. You're welcomed, by the way."  
  
He tried not to imagine all that could go wrong with Virginia's plan, and instead concentrated on his contractions while praying New Netherlands wouldn't drown while out with his sister.  
  
***  
  
It took two days and three nights before Massachusetts finally was born.  
  
America would've been feeling seething rage at England--though having another baby was his own idea--if not for the fact he was starving, to the point where he didn't even want to sleep, and he was _exhausted_. He was also kind of bitter with Virginia, who had yelled various threats through the bedroom door at him. The last one had been something about taking all the money in the house and going to the settlement to buy candy.  
  
"She better have taken her brother with her, if she left the house," he told the new baby. Newly born Massachusetts whimpered in response. America rubbed the baby's back through the sheets the child was bundled in. "Don't start crying," he begged. "I'll feed you soon, I _promise_ , just let me eat _something_ first."  
  
Thank God there was prepared food in the kitchen. America sat on the floor with the baby and tried to stay awake between bites of bread and some sort of overcooked fowl.  
  
Having heard noise, his daughter looked into the room, then seeing her father, rushed inside. "America! What are you doing in the kitchen?"  
  
If he was talking to her, he couldn't eat. Resentfully, he matched her question with another question. "What does it look like I'm doing?"  
  
"You could have called me, I would have brought you something. Should you be moving around?"  
  
"Does it look like I had trouble?"  
  
"You're sitting on the floor, so yes, actually."  
  
He bit back a cranky comeback, then remembering how much more needed to be done before he could sleep, said nicely, "I need you to milk the goat."  
  
She looked at the newborn. "For the baby? Shouldn't you nurse it?"  
  
" _Him_ , not it, and no, I'm not nursing him, I don't want all my shirts being damp."  
  
"But won't he vomit on you anyway? You're already going to be a mess, what's two messes at once, in dealing with?"  
  
"Just go!"  
  
"Fine, fine." She rolled her eyes and stomped out of the kitchen.  
  
Alone with his newborn, America stopped eating for a moment, studied Massachusetts, and came to the dreadful realization that having this baby didn't make him feel any better for _not_ having the last one. Which was terrible and overwhelming and he could not be feeling those things while caring for a newborn and two other children, so continuing to cling to ridiculous hopes, he thought quickly. "Maybe the other one was a girl," he speculated out loud. "If I had another daughter..." Not an impossible goal.  
  
Less panicky with this in mind, America slowly got up, being a little unsteady on his feet, and decided to go back to his bedroom, so once Massachusetts was fed, they both could sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meta in the first line! And a date given (Thirty Years War, 1618-1648), something I've been trying to avoid.
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♥


	12. Chapter 12

England never lost diligence in not letting America know what was going on. The country honestly thought his colony was better off surviving and staying well, not worrying over politics. America was so young--barely a teenager, if he could even be considered that yet--that England tried fooling himself that the colony would be no help, in battles, though thinking of America's immense strength didn't help the lie.  
  
It certainly would have been easier to wash his hands of his colony till things calmed down, but even though England kept reasoning America was too young for responsibilities, he kept sleeping with the boy and fathering children on America. England spent less time fending off America's inquiries about what he was doing and what was going on elsewhere, when America had babies to keep him busy.  
  
And for some reason the boy was determined to have another daughter!  
  
He got increasingly frustrated with England when Massachusetts and New Hampshire were both boys, then it took the better part of a decade for him to get pregnant again. When he did, America was in a foul temper with his children (England was away) the whole time because he felt sicker than he had with the others, and suspected from the weight gain and excessive activity that he was carrying twins. Which _should_ have lifted some of his ire at England, especially when the younger twin turned out to be a girl, but America was still dissatisfied.  
  
This had gone on long enough. Six children was more than enough.  
  
"No more," England told America firmly when he came back on a visit and learned of the twins. He pretended he didn't see the insolent look the colony gave him, as America cuddled little Maryland. "You haven't gotten...in that way _every_ time we've done...that. Let's just do whatever we did all the times nothing happened and nothing should _keep_ happening." Giving up sex with America would have been even better, but England didn't want to accept extremes.  
  
Two years passed without any slip ups, then England was gone for months and came back from arguing over how best to settle a "disagreement" with some of the indigenous people, when he found the front door locked.  
  
And _blocked_ \--by New Netherland. "Go away!" the boy yelled. England wasn't sure how old the child was, but he looked far younger than he should have been, though thank God he had finally gotten the hang of talking. England suspected this had more to do with Virginia's influence than America's.  
  
"Open the door," England yelled back.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Go away, England! Go away, England!"  
  
Recognizing the voices, England groaned. "You're turning my own sons on me?"  
  
Massachusetts and New Hampshire continued gleefully chanting, but New Netherland at least offered an explanation for the mutiny. "Stay away from America! There's already enough of us, and he was a monster the last time this happened!"  
  
 _Fuck_. Damn it all to hell. America had gotten pregnant _again_?  
  
"It's all your fault!" New Netherland confirmed.  
  
Seriously thinking of backtracking and finding somewhere in the settlement to sleep that night, England gave no further response to the children, but he didn't get to make a decision, because he heard America's voice joining the cacophony.  
  
"England's here? Why are you blocking the door? Get away from there! Massachusetts, New Hampshire-- _be quiet!_ \--quit blocking the door, either open it, or--I said _move_!"  
  
The door swung upon so fast England almost was struck by it, and then America came out, looking excited to see England again. He was holding New Hampshire over one shoulder like the child was a sack of potatoes, and he had Massachusetts by the back of the child's shirt.  
  
"We lost, New Netherland," New Hampshire said in a small voice.  
  
America turned around and glared at New Netherland. "You made a game of keeping England out of the house?"

"Yes," New Netherland said unabashedly. He looked slightly disdainful, like he thought his father was a fool and didn't care if America knew, but England was used to seeing the boy looked that way now, even if America had never caught it. New Netherland looked bored with everything unless he was pitting his little brothers into fighting each other.  
  
"I swear, I don't know where you get it..." America set down New Hampshire and released Massachusetts, and all three boys ran off. "You're supposed to be watching the twins!" America hollered after them. "Fuck, they're not going to," he said, more to himself.  
  
England caught this--and did not approve--but he was staring at his colony too hard to make discouraging comments about America's parenting methods. America looked adorable with the extra pudge, and England didn't know what he wanted to do more, hug the boy until the world ended, or throw him into bed and have his wicked way with him. America solved this decision for England too, by throwing his arms around England, and hugging the country like England had been gone six years, not six months. England felt the hardness of America's rounded stomach and weird little pressing sensations from the baby.  
  
He'd missed most of America's other pregnancies. The boy was terrible with numbers, and was usually off by an entire month or more, in calculating how long the wait was for each baby. Strangely, America was never upset with England for missing the births.  
  
"I know! You said no more babies, but I wasn't _trying_ for this one." America laughed carelessly. "And what would you have me do? It's not like I can make it go away!"  
  
"Yes, yes, what's done is done," England said, placing a hand on his colony's stomach. Feeling the baby kick was entrancing. America had not been this far along the other times England was with him; the country didn't stick around after finding out about each coming child. It made him think constantly about the potential wrongness of the situation. He preferred returning about the time each child was to be born, even though that hadn't worked out, so far, and they'd all already arrived, by the time he got back. "Where's Virginia?" he remembered to ask, still distracted.  
  
"Probably in the settlement. She has a lot of friends, I can't keep track."  
  
"She knows they're not to know what she is, right?"  
  
"She knows. Of _course_ she knows! She's very careful."  
  
Smugly, England assumed Virginia had gotten her sense of caution from him. Though, on a less conceited note--the girl hadn't aged past ten, was she making sure not to visit any one place for too long, so she'd remain unnoticed when she didn't age? He wondered another thing: who was Virginia friends _with_ , if she looked so young? Her emotional range was much older than ten, and girls in the settlement were being kept indoors, learning to do the things they'd need to know when they married. Not many of them would be allowed to run about outdoors, especially with a strange girl so ill-bred she _wasn't_ getting proper training.  
  
He did not bother America with these questions, only listened attentively as America prattled on about what the children had been up to.  
  
***  
  
When Virginia came home, it was evening. She barely had time to register that her father was back when England marched her right back out of the house, wanting to question her where America couldn't hear.  
  
"Where have you been? What are you doing when you go to the settlement?"  
  
"Hello to you too, England," she said dryly. "I also missed you."  
  
He could have stated his questions more kindly. "Sorry. Just--what are you up to?"  
  
"Going to the settlement," Virginia said lightly. "Didn't America tell you the same?"  
  
"What are you doing there?" he asked impatiently.

She turned a bit sullen at this anger, and may have been considering not answering, then, annoyed, told him, "I'm working. People pay me to sweep out their stores and run errands for them. A lot of it is trading doing odd jobs for people and then them giving me stuff, but a few times I got money." There was a hint of pride to her tone. "No one hires girls, normally, but they think I'm from a bad family and we're poor and they feel sorry for me. I think they always hope that in a few years I'll marry one of the boys in the settlement, and _become_ respectable, but I never stay long, that'd put everyone onto me."  
  
England was so surprised by this that it felt like his daughter had hit him, not merely explained herself to him. He shouldn't have been shocked, though--Virginia was, what? Twenty, _over_ twenty? She had the body of a ten-year-old but was more mature than America...who wasn't _that_ much older. "America thinks you're with friends."  
  
"He doesn't need to know what I'm doing, he'd just worry."  
  
The words were said flippantly, and this and the fact that they so closely matched England's own twisted reasoning for trying to keep his colony ignorant suddenly made England feel cold and sickened.  
  
Virginia raised an eyebrow at him. "So...how'd you take finding out about the addition?" She giggled, sounding like the ten-year-old girl she looked like. "Like we need another. Really, England, can't you stay off America for _one_ visit? It's a little revolting!"  
  
***  
  
England had never been more relieved in his life to be called home by his boss. To make things even creepier, America packed his things for him and looked as delighted to see England leaving as he'd been to see him back.  
  
***  
  
Some months later, a letter arrived, telling England the latest baby was another boy. This one was named Rhode Island. Not a name that made sense to England, but he hadn't understood any of the names America used so far, with the exception of Virginia's.  
  
The date on the letter showed once again, America had counted wrong.  
  
There was a "you fucking bastard" included before the "Disrespectfully," so England understood that America had dictated the letter to New Netherland. It was rather amazing what lovely penmanship the child had, given the fact his only talents so far had been memorizing all profanity said within earshot of him and instigating violence in his younger siblings. England supposed New Netherland inherited the skill from his other father.  
  
Somehow, the warfare and violence at home was appealing much more to England than the mess he'd created and dumped on his colony.


	13. Chapter 13

With Alaska fidgeting in his lap, Canada contemplated how best to coerce America back into conversation. If his brother had slipped up one time, he could be provoked into slipping up a second.  
  
Nation gossip over America's children brought up colorfully useless drama. It rarely deviated from countries fighting over who had cuter states with America, growing no more serious than speculation over the paternity of certain states. What wasn't discussed was how America limited visitation with his children to the other parents (America liked being credited as the _only_ parent), or whether it was appropriate for America to be having children in the first place (because admitting this would be admitting most countries were in the wrong, for when they'd started sleeping with America).  
  
Dead states were taboo. Everyone knew Kansas had a twin who hadn't lived, it hadn't been possible to keep that private, in the lead up to the civil war of the United States. There had been a few occasions that had not gone unnoticed of America being pregnant, then months later, there being no baby when there should have been an extra child among his states. No one knew how to handle such situations, so countries could only compare notes behind America's back and remain wondering.  
  
It was with the status quo in mind and watching how his twin hovered anxiously over the playpen that had Canada not acting as quickly as he would have liked, in persisting on what America had revealed. Hawaii was making no sounds of fussing and America had not picked her up. She didn't need anything, America just _wanted_ to use her as an excuse to escape. He was seeking comfort from a baby, instead of turning to his older brother for support.  
  
Alaska swatted at Canada's arms. Canada repositioned him, thinking the boy didn't like the way he was being held. Alaska squirmed, then shrieked, " _Daddy!_ " with the urgency of someone being tortured.  
  
"What?" America looked away from the playpen.  
  
Holding up the baby so Alaska was standing, not sitting, on his lap, Canada grew flustered, as the baby tried in vain to get away."He just started freaking out."  
  
America came forward to grab Alaska away from Canada. "What's wrong, little guy? You want attention from Daddy too? Are you _jealous_ of your sister?"  
  
"Stop it! No pick up!" Alaska cried.  
  
"Oh, you're just overtired." America was disappointed until he realized, "Hey, that was almost a sentence! You really are advanced!"  
  
"No, he's not, sentence fragments are right on cue for under eleven months," Canada said quietly. How was he supposed to get America talking again if Alaska was claiming America's attention?  
  
"What would you know? You're the one who offered to take care of him and his sister, and didn't even have the common sense to put him to bed when it was getting late."  
  
He wanted America to be more at ease. Why did they keep getting into arguments? "You're right. I'm sorry. I should have done that. I'll do it now, give him here." Canada held out his arms to take Alaska back.  
  
America did not give up the baby. "He's grumpy because he's tired! Someone else holding him will only put him in a worse mood. He'll calm more quickly if I hold him until he sleeps." America settled back onto the couch, beside his brother. Alaska laid against his chest and sulked. His eye color was blue, but not the bright, clear blue of America's eyes--it was subtle, and who knew how long it would take, but Alaska's eyes were definitely changing to violet. Looking at the baby closely, it was apparent that he resembled Russia more than he did America.  
  
"How are you going to keep Russia from finding out about him?" Canada asked. "America, he looks just like him! You really don't think someone won't notice, and tell him? Or one of your states won't make a mistake, and mention him in front of the wrong person?"  
  
"So far, everyone has agreed it's better that he doesn't know. I'm counting on anyone who does find out to be smart enough to assume the same." Everyone else, though--aside from his overprotective children--was a grand total of two people, one of whom was a friend of Russia's. America evidently was unable to ignore this, because he looked worried.

Was he adamant about not wanting Russia to see the baby, or was he too confused to be able to make a clear decision?  
  
***  
  
America did not get to enjoy England's absence as much as he'd been hoping to. Virginia moved out, joining the servant staff of one of the households of a nearby settlement. She only came back two or three days a month. New Netherland was gone all day, hanging about the docks and getting paid to shovel trash and horse droppings off the roads. Sometimes he stayed gone nights; sleeping in barns or in the woods. America would have been upset over his oldest two being gone, but he had five other children to take care of. Making sure everyone got fed and keeping everyone clean was already constant work; he didn't have time to worry over Virginia or ensure New Netherland stayed home.  
  
He never got a moment to himself. Rhode Island slept with him, and if one of the other children had a nightmare or wet the bed, they'd retreat to America's bed. Wetting the bed meant America had to wash bedding and clothing the next day, which gave him the option of trying to keep his kids away from boiling laundry water, or keeping them from falling into the stream if he washed outside. There were meals to make, and America only had time to eat because he took bites of the food he was feeding his children; once they weren't hungry, they'd try going off in different directions, and he'd be chasing after one while yelling at the others to stay together. Massachusetts and New Hampshire could keep an eye on the twins and Rhode Island for short amounts of time, but then America still had chickens and goats that needed attention; if he made the older children at home feed and clean up after the animals, that still left three small children who needed to be watched.  
  
Why he had ever wanted England to leave was something America would have forgotten entirely, in the never ending chaos of daily life, except the thought of not knowing where his dead baby was buried brought back how he couldn't trust England with what happened to the children--living or dead. So America lied about all his due dates, and encouraged England's trips away, making sure he and he alone controlled what happened with his children. Now that he was accepting he couldn't replace the child who'd died, there was no need to keep having babies, and no reason to lure England into his bed. In short, there was no use for _England_ anymore.  
  
***  
  
He'd seen Sweden before. That had been when America was a tiny thing and there were hardly any settlers on the land, but he had known the blond country's name.  
  
America was outside with his children, hoping they would tire themselves out by running around and let him put them down for a nap, when a tall man walked into the clearing where the house was situated.  
  
Visitors were few and far between. When they did show up, they were usually Spain or France, though once or twice Canada had been by. None of them thought for a second that any of the children were America's; it was thought that America was lonely and taking in orphans for company. He'd been terrified the first few times he had guests, then realized no one looked past what he told them. Spain stayed for two weeks during one of America's pregnancies without noting any differences to the colony. America became more confident after that. He didn't even enforce his "human names only" rule, in how his children were to address him.  
  
He'd seen him before, but on this day, America did not recognize Sweden.  
  
The colony was holding Rhode Island, and when the other children caught sight of the stranger, Connecticut and Maryland ran over to America and clung to his legs. Massachusetts and New Hampshire rushed to their father and stopped short as if guarding America, while they stared suspiciously at the approaching man.  
  
"'S Arthur 'ere?" the man grunted.  
  
"What?" Massachusetts asked. He knew his other parent as England, not Arthur Kirkland.  
  
"Arthur. He here?"  
  
"No," America answered.

"Who are you?" New Hampshire asked bluntly, not wanting Massachusetts to be the only one protecting their father. Both boys would have been far more helpful to America by laying off fighting like two cats trapped in a sack, but they'd started out their skirmishes competing for their older brother's attention, and New Netherland being gone often wasn't enough to break the habit.  
  
The man stooped down so he was at eye level with the boys. His height was imposing and the gesture did a lot to make him less intimidating. America didn't know if his children were able to sense it, but the man gave off a presence that was not human. Wondering which country he was kept America from being scared. Why did he seem familiar?  
  
"'m Berwald."  
  
Berwald--? America had never heard any such name.  
  
Seeing America's confusion, the man prompted, "Y'saw m'once w'en you wer'a child."  
  
Oh. _Oh_. Remembering Sweden and Finland, America said, "Hey, it's been a long time! I thought you didn't like England!"  
  
Sweden looked a little uncertain at country names being used around the children.  
  
"You don't have to hide anything around them, it's no problem using your real name." He had human names for the children, but America could never remember what they were, with the exception of Maryland, on whom he just dropped the land suffix. It was fortunate that no one cared about the "strays" he "took in," because the last time Canada had visited, America called Rhode Island the whole time by three different names starting with r. But then, Canada had noticed America kept alternating between calling Massachusetts "Martin" and "Michael" on a previous visit, so he probably just assumed America hadn't had the boy long enough to be able to remember his name.  
  
"What kind of name is Berwald?" Maryland asked, still hiding behind America's legs. Connecticut wasn't looking at Sweden at all.  
  
"It's Sweden," America told her. "He uses Berwald when not around other countries."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"To keep them from asking questions."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because it's confusing when people are named after countries."  
  
She wrinkled up her nose, not getting this answer. "No, it's not."  
  
"Yes it is."  
  
"It is _not_ \--"  
  
"Be quiet," New Hampshire snapped.  
  
"Both of you be quiet," America said in annoyance. He looked to Sweden. "Why are you here? To see England? He's not here. You can stay overnight if you want, but you'll have to put up with these brats."  
  
Rhode Island smiled widely at the brat accusation, as if finding it a compliment.  
  
"Fine," Sweden said, surprising America. Perhaps he should have phrased the offer more insultingly.  
  
***  
  
The novelty of a new visitor made America's children behave better than they usually did. They called each other by human names (and did a better job of remembering than their father), seemed to have no trouble understanding Sweden, and asked him questions about the ship he'd been on, how he knew England, and what places had he been to in Europe.  
  
To his credit, Sweden didn't seem to mind that they were only halfway paying attention to his answers. "Th're r'lly cute," he told America, as the children were eating dinner.  
  
"Sometimes," America allowed, feeling shell-shocked by the current lack of fighting among his children.  
  
"They all f'rm th' village?"  
  
"Pretty much." Technically, his household counted as part of the nearest settlement, so saying that wasn't a lie.  
  
"Lotta kids for 'nother kid to handle."  
  
"I do alright." The house was in order, the children were fed, dressed, and clean. They did well, developmentally. How was he _not_ taking good care of his children? And it wasn't like he looked ten anymore! Girls younger than him got _married_ and started families! He wasn't a girl, but he had to be doing as well as one, considering he did everything _alone_ , without a spouse.  
  
"England okay w'this?"  
  
"Who cares? He's not here." Let Sweden be another person thinking he was taking in orphans because he didn't like living alone.

Sweden picked up Rhode Island, giving him a piece of buttered bread, and something about the big country being so gentle with such a small child made America feel...odd. It was very sweet, but that wasn't the only thing. Maybe the crankiness he was feeling wasn't really that, and America was just out of sorts from not having any adults around.  
  
Actually...in spite of the questioning and having to be on guard, America wasn't in a remotely bad mood.  
  
***  
  
With Sweden distracting the children, America was able to give them all baths, which was in itself a miracle; the twins screamed as if being murdered every time America washed them, the older two splashed so much the kitchen got flooded with every bath day, and Rhode Island would have thrown a tantrum except America took baths with him, which kept the littlest from squalling.  
  
After their long day, this tired out the younger three. America was able to trick Massachusetts and New Hampshire into watching Rhode Island. "I need to talk to Sweden about grown up things."  
  
"We want to talk to Sweden too," New Hampshire pouted.  
  
Massachusetts was not about to be outdone. "Yeah, why do _you_ get to talk to him alone?"  
  
"You're not going to understand any of the things I ask him about. It won't be any fun. I'd rather not keep Rhode Island with me, but since neither of you can take care of him all night long--"  
  
Massachusetts took offense. "Who said that? I can look after him."  
  
New Hampshire was also insulted. "So can I! He can sleep in my bed!"  
  
"I'm oldest, he's sleeping in _my_ bed."  
  
America was not interested in breaking up any fights. "He sleeps in your bed tonight, Massachusetts, and yours tomorrow, New Hampshire. If I hear him crying, he goes in with the twins. I'll _know_ if one of you _makes_ him cry, so don't even try that one."  
  
He heard the boys whispering as he closed the door, but America was still hopeful their competitive relationship would work in his favor, tonight.  
  
***  
  
There weren't many beds, and to accommodate their guest, either America was going to have to sleep with one of his children, and give up his own bed to Sweden, or sleep with the country. America _thought_ he was just trying to get a break from having his children in his bed, when he placed Rhode Island with Massachusetts and New Hampshire for the night.  
  
However, when America began getting frustrated that Sweden was fine with sharing a bed, but didn't try anything with him, America realized he _wanted_ Sweden to do to him the very same things he'd hated England doing, intimately. _Why_ did he want _that_? Because it was someone different? Sweden was a big man, it was sure to hurt the same amount as all those times with England.  
  
Telling himself reason didn't make the thought of Sweden's hands all over him any less desirable. America squirmed against the country, who didn't take the hint, and instead put his arms around America and snuggled with him willingly for the night.  
  
***  
  
It was hard to be too cranky, when Sweden let America sleep in the next morning, cooked food for the children, got them to feed the chickens and goats, and had a meal waiting for America when the colony awoke.  
  
America was not used to getting enough sleep. He was even less used to someone else cooking for him. He didn't normally think of fish as breakfast food, but since he didn't have to prepare it, he was fine with eating it.  
  
Sweden sat down opposite him, Rhode Island in his arms. "N'thlands bin 'round?"  
  
"No. I thought you were looking for England."  
  
"'m lookin' fer a lot of countries."  
  
"Well. Can't help you there. I've only seen Canada recently. I think Spain and France are in Europe again, they haven't been here in years."  
  
"Yeah. Th'r at war."  
  
"War?" If they were at war--with each other?--why wouldn't England mention that? "Recently?"  
  
"Don't y'know what's goin' on?" Sweden remarked. "E'vryone's fighin' in Europe."  
  
He wasn't that curious; it wasn't going on here, so why should he care? America felt a little touchy about being seen as ignorant. "If Netherlands _was_ here, he'd be in one of the settlements. If you need to find him, you should try looking in them."

Sweden accepted this wordlessly. He wiped Rhode Island's little face and continued holding him as the toddler babbled cheerfully. Sweden seemed content with silently keeping America company as the colony ate.  
  
***  
  
Sweden made three trips out, coming back to the house after each one. America had no idea if the country found what he was looking for; he refused to discuss what he was doing with America. "Gotta b' gettin' back," he said, after the third time.  
  
America didn't want Sweden to go. Nor did the children. They were all very taken with Sweden, having quickly gotten over his stoicism. Someone who let them climb all over him was hard to still see as scary, and their father was happier having an adult around to take on some of the responsibility. America was glad New Netherland had never been home on the days Sweden was here, because he had a feeling his oldest son wouldn't be so welcoming of another adult, with how resentfully he viewed England.  
  
He still wanted to feel Sweden's hands on him. The thought was driving him so crazy that America could barely sit still. He decided to make _something_ happen that night, before Sweden went home.  
  
***  
  
It took some forceful convincing to get the country to oblige.  
  
"You know I'm not a little kid, right?" America brought up, when Sweden once more thought America just wanted cuddling.  
  
"Still a kid." Sweden pulled America close. He rubbed his cheek against America's hair and breathed deeply. "Y'smell nice. Y'took a bath t'day?"  
  
This was remaining infuriatingly platonic. Sweden was closest to the wall; America pressed back, hard, smacking Sweden immobile, then kept the country held in place, unable to free himself. "Okay, get this," America said flatly. "Maybe to _you_ I'm a child, but I've existed longer than the age I look. I? Have not gotten laid in two years. And the last time was _terrible_. _All_ the times have been...lacking. Look where I've got you right now. Do I _seem_ like someone who is too weak to get out of a compromising position?"  
  
Sweden, shocked, had less words to spare than usual. The hard on that began jabbing America's ass made the colony optimistic. He tried rubbing backward against it, but that didn't help and besides, Sweden still couldn't move. America dragged himself away from the country, to the other side of the bed, and waited to see what Sweden would do, now that it was laid out what America wanted.  
  
The country remained where he was, for a moment. Then he sat up, moved to get over America, and climbed out of the bed.  
  
America was outraged. "You're _leaving_?"  
  
"'m goin' t'the kitchen."  
  
What? America, miffed, stayed in bed, replaying what he'd done. Had he gone about things wrong? He didn't know whether to be embarrassed or bitter, so he settled for being confused.  
  
Sweden came back into the room. He was carrying a bowl, and after closing the door, he looked around, laid eyes on a trunk against the wall, and dragged it in front of the door.  
  
"What are you doing?" Were things going to go as he wanted?  
  
"Th're five kids in th' house. Y'want 'ny of 'em walkin' in?"  
  
"Oh, right. Didn't think of that."  
  
"Ob'vsly." Bowl still in hand, Sweden approached the bed. As he lay beside America again, the colony saw what Sweden had brought. Cooking fat. England had used oil, not that it helped when America was only into the sex to get more babies and not because he wanted any action. He'd never been able to relax, no matter how much lubrication his guardian put into the act.  
  
Sweden did not directly attempt to fuck America. He kissed the colony first, which bored America, until Sweden moved around some and started paying attention to the back of America's neck. This gave America chills. If he thought he'd wanted Sweden this badly before, he felt certain he was going to start screaming if Sweden didn't do anything to him.

The country slid his hands over America's chest, one hand sliding down to grab America's cock, one hand rubbing America's chest, down over his stomach, back up. America was overwhelmed, and did not think he'd be able to last long. The pressure around him felt amazing. He tried thrusting into Sweden's hand, but Sweden pinned him hard, and this was an even bigger turn on to America, who quite honestly did not know what he wanted more, the hand job, or Sweden's cock in his ass. "Oh God," he whimpered.  
  
"Tha' display," Sweden growled into his ear. "W's tha' sayin' y'like it rough?"  
  
"Try it and let me find out," America challenged.  
  
He didn't know how he managed to hold out. Sweden gripped him with one hand, tightening and stroking. With the other, he melted the cooking fat and rubbed at America's butt.  
  
America didn't care about the pressure threatening his ass as Sweden continued handling him, and he didn't even notice when Sweden's fingers were replaced by his cock until the country was thrusting into him. America swore, feeling frenzied, wanting Sweden to keep up both things he was doing. He was slightly aware of Sweden gasping out for him to be quiet, he was being too loud, but the door was blocked, wasn't it? No one was going to bother them!  
  
He came all over Sweden's hand and onto the bed, while the country kept pounding into him. Dazed, America laid still, wondering why Sweden fucking him wasn't hurting this time. There was pressure, yes, but it didn't feel bad. America concentrated on the fullness he was feeling, as the wet spot underneath him cooled. Sweden's rhythm continued, and America noted a slight pause, then Sweden sped up, before reaching orgasm as well. He pulled out, and rolled onto his side.  
  
The melted cooking fat was getting everywhere, but the last thing America wanted to do was get out of bed. He snuggled up to Sweden, listening to the country's fast breathing.  
  
"Th's time any better?"  
  
America clung to Sweden happily.  
  
They hadn't heard any noise from the children, and for the rest of that night, the house remained calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate the word "butt." It looks ridiculous.
> 
> And Canada is a jealous hater. Russia's kid is advanced; a baby under eleven months would be expected to say clear words, not applying sentence fragments appropriately. At ten and a half months, it wouldn't even be out of the ordinary for a baby to still not be talking yet.
> 
> I didn't feel right not altering Sweden's speech, but I didn't want to rely on the drop-all-vowels thing, so I took out...some of them. Certain words, how they sounded in certain sentences was what I tried doing.


	14. Chapter 14

The few countries that New Netherland had met hadn't made the greatest of impressions on him.  
  
Spain was far cheerier than anyone had any right being, and France made New Netherland feel funny in ways the boy couldn't explain, so he preferred France and Spain both staying gone, like England now was. England, who only showed up to knock up America, take off, and come back once the kid was born to mock whatever name America had given the newest baby. They _were_ stupid names (New Netherland would never admit to hating being named after his own father; it made for too long a name), but what right did England have to judge?  
  
Then there was Canada. He wasn't a country, but a colony like his twin America. He was boring. More importantly, he was guilty of the same thing the countries were: not noticing what England had been doing to America.  
  
Believing that _all_ personifications of people and land weren't worth bothering with, New Netherland wasn't sorry that he'd missed meeting Sweden, when he came back home and his younger siblings told him about the country. He briefly was thankful it was a different country, and not England come home for good--and didn't give the matter any more thought. He went about his normal business, roughhousing with the oldest of his little brothers, avoiding helping out at home, lighting out to the villages and docks where he could make a bit of money picking up trash or carrying baggage for passengers just off the ships.  
  
He visited his sister whenever he saw her outside the house where she worked, beating carpets or hanging up wet clothing. The other maids loved Virginia because she was willing to do dirty jobs they hated, and Virginia was fine with doing the work because it wasn't difficult, with her strength, and it allowed her to talk to her little brother privately.  
  
She did not take Sweden's visit as something to barely consider. "Was America sleeping with him all those times he was there?"  
  
New Netherland didn't like thinking about his father having sex. "I...wasn't there any of those times."  
  
"You. Weren't. There." The pause she gave was long enough to make him feel uncomfortable, then Virginia went back to whacking the hanging rug.  
  
New Netherland was uneasy by the renewed energy his sister was putting into her task; it definitely was a sign she wasn't pleased with him. He couldn't be heard over her activity. This gave him time to think about how often he was gone and everything else he _wasn't_ doing, and he began feeling incredibly guilty. When his sister paused next, to be able to breath without inhaling dust, New Netherland explained ineffectively, "I get tired of seeing everyone there." Surely she could understand that!  
  
"And you think America doesn't? He doesn't even get to sleep or eat unless he can get everyone else doing the same! Why do you think I waited till Rhode Island was big enough that it was safe for you and the older two to be feeding him solid food, before I left?"  
  
If he couldn't get sympathy, he could try honesty. "I hate children. They do stupid things and have to be watched _every_ minute. They drool, they cry even when there's nothing wrong, and worse--babies _smell_. They permeate whatever room they're in with that vomit-shit-milk stench. I don't know how America is fine with that!"  
  
"Permeate? Why are you throwing about words like that? Stop showing off!"  
  
" _You_ haven't noticed the smell?"  
  
"I have." She gave the rug another blow. "And I ignore it. It's not the worst thing in the world, you know. Worse is changing nappies, forgetting you put the dirty one to your right, then putting your hand in it while it's loaded."  
  
"What's a nappy?"  
  
"A _diaper_. What else would I be changing that's dirty on a baby?"  
  
"Clothes? If you meant diaper, then _say_ diaper."  
  
"England calls them nappies. That sounds better to me."  
  
He was going to insult England, but Virginia went back to rug beating before New Netherland could get out the word, "asshole."  
  
***  
  
On the walk home, New Netherland thought, and having been gone so much, he had very little observation to be able to determine if his father had been acting differently since Sweden had last been there.

America was tired--but America was tired all the time; there were five small children in the house. Had he gained weight? America was always holding Rhode Island or one of the twins, it wasn't possible to tell if his stomach was any bigger. It hadn't been that long, had it? Would America be showing yet?  
  
Appalled by how little he remembered from when America was pregnant with the other children--Rhode Island was only a year old--New Netherland arrived home feeling anxious and only got more so by the sight of Massachusetts and New Hampshire throwing rocks at each other in the front yard. "Hey! Quit that!"  
  
"Huh?" They looked at each other as if not sure they'd heard right; usually, their older brother _encouraged_ their fighting.  
  
Looking around, New Netherland saw they were alone. "Where's America?"  
  
Massachusetts watched his older brother petulantly. "He's upstairs, taking a nap."  
  
"He told us to stay outside till he said it's alright to come back in." New Hampshire still had a rock grasped in one hand, and turned it over and over in his palm. "He's tired of us being loud all the time and said to go be loud outside if we couldn't shut up."  
  
That...sounded more grumpy than how their father normally allowed himself to act, around them. America got impatient and annoyed to an understandable extent, dealing with all them, but surprisingly often since Rhode Island came along, America behaved like he wasn't taking it seriously, being a single parent to several children. New Netherland didn't know how to take this. He'd only ever known his father as being constantly stressed out.  
  
"Can we come inside now?" Massachusetts asked. "I'm hungry."  
  
"Okay, but wash up when we go to the kitchen."  
  
From New Hampshire's expression, one would think New Netherland had told him to burn off his hands in the kitchen fire. "What? Why?"  
  
New Netherland grabbed both his little brothers by the backs of their collars and pulled them toward the front door. "Because you've been throwing rocks and you're both dirty."  
  
The younger boys argued over who should go first, splashed water at each other, and then complained it was too cold to wash with. New Netherland grabbed them again and scrubbed their faces himself, while they hollered and whined he was rubbing their skin off. He wondered if he was ever as bad as his little brothers, all the times America tried to get him clean. "Quit your crying!"  
  
He searched the kitchen for any food he could give them that didn't need to be cooked. The boys poked and slapped at each other while their older brother had his back to them. New Netherland found bread and cheese, breaking both up into several chunks. Seeing what his brothers were up to, he pulled them apart. "Eat. I'm going to see if America needs anything."  
  
Upstairs, there was a louder commotion than there'd been outside.  
  
The twins were jumping on America's bed, screeching the words to a song New Netherland recognized as being about an English girl taken advantage of by a Scottish man. Where had they learned that? From England, during one of the times he'd been drunk? The country _was_ prone to getting maudlin and dramatic when spending too much time with the bottle. But why was America _letting_ them sing it? He was on the bed as well, curled up, clamping a pillow over his head. Rhode Island was sitting on him.  
  
"Ne'vland! Ne'vland!" the toddler cried.  
  
For a moment, New Netherland almost felt bad about disliking the baby. He picked up his little brother, gave his father a shake, and yelled over the twins, "Go downstairs! I've set out food!"  
  
They stood still and hesitated, torn between eating and bouncing on the bed--then food won out.  
  
In the silence that came from their departure, America raised the pillow slightly off his head, looking groggy. "Where did Maryland and Connecticut go? Where's--oh, you've got him."  
  
New Netherland stared at him. "Were you _asleep_?"  
  
"...yeah? Wasn't it obvious?"  
  
"The twins were jumping on the bed. The baby was _sitting_ on you."  
  
America stretched, straightening out across the bed. "It just made it easier to know where they all were! Uh...speaking of which, have you seen Massachusetts and New Hampshire?" He wasn't making any moves to get up.

"They're in the kitchen. I gave them some food."  
  
"Oh, good, I don't have to worry about feeding them again today!"  
  
New Netherland surreptitiously eyed his father, wondering if Sweden's visit was going to leave _another_ baby in the house, but it was hard to tell anything with America lying down. About to set Rhode Island back on the bed, New Netherland was grabbed by America, who pulled both boys down on him. Rhode Island squealed; New Netherland put up with being hugged as if he were still a tiny child. To be fair, he didn't look even half as old as he really was.  
  
"You're staying here with me at least a few minutes! You're always running off all the time."  
  
The affection wasn't something New Netherland minded; it was peaceful being with his father. Rhode Island's intrusion didn't ruin the moment. The baby's giggling was adorable, and he wasn't even acting bored with lying on America's chest, doing nothing. It reminded New Netherland of when Massachusetts was his only younger sibling. They use to take naps with America. In those days, America had been overwhelmed, trying to get into the swing of raising more than one child. The naps had been the only times he seemed to calm.  
  
***  
  
If America was pregnant again, then he should be reverting to how ill tempered he'd been all the other times, right?  
  
New Netherland thought this, and watched his father. When America remained ditzy and cheerful, New Netherland assumed Virginia had been wrong, and nothing had happened between their father and Sweden.  
  
Then America began gaining weight. Throwing New Netherland's theory out the window.  
  
"You're aware all pregnancies aren't the same, aren't you?" Virginia asked, amused, when her little brother expressed his confusion to her.  
  
"He was the same way with everyone else."  
  
"No, he wasn't. Are you blind? The only same thing all those times was him being cranky at having so many babies! Anyone would have been angry all the time about that, and it had to be worse, doing it alone. He's not even a girl, that had to make it scary and confusing."  
  
"You and your logic," New Netherland muttered.  
  
Virginia gave him a condescending look, then went back to hanging up wet laundry.  
  
New Netherland stood in silence. Butterflies flitted over the flowers and vegetables in the back yard; a cat was crouched near the door, tail twitching as it watched several birds pecking at the ground.  
  
Virginia started talking again. "The baby's not that old, you didn't notice then how different things were? He was pretty worked up the other times, but the last time..."  
  
"You spent more time with him than I did."  
  
She could've used that to criticize him, or lord over him how much more helpful she was, but she didn't. Virginia pinned a chemise to the clothesline, meticulously smoothing out the wrinkles in the garment. "I wasn't even with him. Most of the time, I was with the younger children."  
  
"Do you ever resent that?" New Netherland asked abruptly. "I can't remember a time when you _weren't_ a caretaker."  
  
Virginia stopped fussing with the chemise and pulled another garment from her laundry basket. "I can remember being an only child. None of you know what that's like. The only thing I regret is that America was put in this situation."  
  
He didn't know if she was speaking of her own father, or referring to their siblings. "Go on."  
  
She gave a cautious glance toward the house, then huffily said, "I think having all of us is beyond his control."  
  
"Well, no shit, England won't lay off him, the pervert."  
  
"I'm not talking about England and him! We've all got the names of places, don't we?"  
  
"Unfortunately." He saw the cat hadn't moved. The birds still didn't notice it.

"He didn't name us those names because he _wanted_ to. I heard him say one time the names just came to him, they weren't something he'd made up. Did you ever hear of any of these places before our siblings with the same name arrived? Isn't it a little odd we've got people coming here who are from Connecticut, or Rhode Island--and we're _only_ hearing these places exist _after_ America's had the babies and named them that?"  
  
This disturbed New Netherland. "How many of us will that end up being?"  
  
"Too many, I'm sure. Are you _certain_ America's gaining weight?"  
  
"He keeps hugging me. I know he's usually touchy-feely, but this is pushing it even for him."  
  
"Thank you, Sweden," Virginia said sarcastically. "A reminder of you was just the thing our household needed." Disgusted, she picked up her now empty basket. "I'll probably come back home in the next few months. Tell America that."  
  
New Netherlands resisted the temptation to ask if his sister's "contemporaries" were becoming aware that she wasn't aging. The question would have been a low blow, and though he'd never found it too bad, not looking his age, Virginia was older and female; being forced to act like a child for her had to be intolerable.  
  
As his older sister went into the house, she strode past the birds, scaring them away, and the cat, denied a prospective meal, slunk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray set up! Soon New Netherland will be New York. Btw, France making him feel funny wasn't because he was giving the kid pedo vibes.
> 
> http://www.contemplator.com/child/deceive.html - the song Connecticut and Maryland were singing.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: graphic descriptions of childbirth

Babies were not on America's mind, during and after the visits with Sweden. America wasn't _trying_ for more children, so why should he think about them?  
  
Consequences not a priority, America was more surprised than he should have been, when he woke one morning, nauseous, and proceeded to spend half the day vomiting. The reason had to be that he had another child on the way; side effects of pregnancy were the _only_ sickness America knew. The closest to being ill he'd reached when _not_ pregnant was vomiting up things he shouldn't have eaten, like plants or berries that looked appetizing, but turned out to be poisonous. Once they were out of him, he was right as rain, with no repercussions. The worst of England's cooking and rotted meat weren't enough to upset America's stomach (though he was carefuller now about cooking and preserving food. He didn't want to make his children sick, since vomiting was unpleasant and he was the one who had to do the clean up.).  
  
Unlike Rhode Island (who had also been a surprise), America did not need to convince himself or fake enthusiasm around his children over the latest baby. His time with Sweden had been happy. This child was a reminder of Sweden. America loved all of his kids, but he hadn't been happy about having any of them. He'd had too much resentment in Netherlands's child coming along at such a bad time, and England's children failing to keep him home and failing to make the loss of their dead sibling more bearable.  
  
America had expected nothing of Sweden, and been treated better by him than both England and Netherlands combined. If anything, getting a baby from Sweden felt like a parting gift.  
  
***  
  
His eighth child didn't provide an easier pregnancy. America was tired, nauseous, and achy. He was hungry all the time but not wanting to eat anything he had access to--yet his optimism never dwindled. When he wanted fruit but couldn't have it, because it wasn't in season, he ate preserves on biscuits and hoped he'd remember next year to dry fruit. When his stomach swelled and his skin started stretching painfully, he massaged beeswax onto his belly, counted how many months he had left of this discomfort, then would get distracted by the baby's movement in response to his touch.  
  
Virginia came back. Disgusted with her younger brother, she made New Netherland tend to Massachusetts and New Hampshire ("It's _your_ fault they don't know how to do anything but fight, _you_ fix the problem you made!"). She put the rest of the household in line, splitting up the chores so less fell on their father, finding simple ways Connecticut and Maryland could help (they were entrusted with helping Rhode Island dress and wash up).  
  
Massachusetts and New Hampshire might have complained, only Virginia was a girl and she was giving herself the hardest and most complex chores--both boys would have been too ashamed, griping about doing easy work while she was taking on things a grown man would do.  
  
America watched his oldest curiously throughout the proceedings. He noticed she didn't give New Netherland very much responsibility beyond breaking up the fighting between Massachusetts and New Hampshire. Did she feel easier ordering around blood siblings than a half sibling, or was it respect to her brother due to him not being a child even while looking like one? America was grateful his daughter was back, but he didn't know _why_ she had returned. Was it because of him or because she'd overstayed her welcome in the village? Because of Virginia's age, America didn't question her; she was his child and she didn't look like a grown woman at all, but although America had trouble remembering New Netherland's true age, he wasn't having that problem with Virginia, and he felt he owed her the respect of an adult.  
  
***  
  
New Netherland took his new assignment seriously.  
  
He meant to lecture the older two in the front yard, where if they started fighting, it wouldn't bother America, but Connecticut followed them, feeling left out. Rhode Island, who could walk well enough but had trouble remaining upright if he tried to stand still, had joined his older brothers, wondering what they were up to, as he stood clinging to Connecticut's shirttail to maintain balance.

Virginia--suspicious of her younger brother's enthusiasm--sat outside on the ground, forcing Maryland into her lap. She was trying to braid her sister's hair, but the plaits kept turning out uneven.  
  
"I don't _want_ my hair braided!" Maryland howled. She thrashed around in her sister's lap, which caused Virginia to tug even more on her hair.  
  
"Hold still! You're not wearing your hair loose, it tangles too much. New Netherland will get you some pretty ribbons the next time he goes to the village, and I'll use that on your hair instead of thread."  
  
"I don't caaaaaaaaaare! Stop pulling my hair!"  
  
"Oh, be quiet." Without mercy, Virginia undid the plaits and tried again to do them evenly.  
  
The boys had been watching their sisters, only too happy to be spared from the femininity, which looked more complicated than it was worth, then New Netherland remembered what he'd taken his brothers outside for. "Okay. You know we're getting another brother or sister, right?"  
  
All four boys stared at him blankly.  
  
"You _didn't_ know? Oh. Uh, I hope America didn't want that to be a secret. How did you _not_ know? He's getting kind of fat."  
  
Virginia laughed.  
  
"I didn't know either!" Maryland piped up, seeming pleased to see New Netherland disconcerted.  
  
Connecticut frowned skeptically. "He's eating a lot. Don't you get fat if you eat lots?"  
  
Rhode Island fell, bottom-first, still holding onto his brother's shirttail, and Connecticut pried the toddler's fingers off his shirt. Rhode Island resumed his hold, only this time on Connecticut's trouser leg. Connecticut allowed this, waiting gravely for New Netherland to answer the question.  
  
"Uh...well...um..." New Netherland, used to dealing with his older sister--who had a maturity not matching her exterior--had not thought to make his lecture more age applicable for his younger siblings. "Well, he is, and it's taking a lot out of him, so we need to do things to keep him from getting...more worn out."  
  
Massachusetts was not having it. "Virginia already gave us chores."  
  
"Yes, I _know_ she did, and that's going to help America, but we need to do _more_. I'm not talking chores, I'm talking about how we interact."  
  
"What does interact mean?" New Hampshire asked. "How we act? Can't you just say act then? And I don't put on acts around anyone!"  
  
"Airs. You're thinking of airs." Virginia had Maryland's plaits half-finished and was not looking satisfied with the job. "As in, New Netherlands need to stop putting on airs, and use more ordinary words."  
  
"You stay out of this!"  
  
"America said we're not suppose to yell at girls," Massachusetts chastised.  
  
"Hit girls," New Hampshire corrected. "We're not supposed to hit them. He didn't say anything about yelling, so I think _that's_ all well and good."  
  
Connecticut forced Rhode Island's hold off his trousers, and made his little brother stand, holding him steady.  
  
New Netherland sighed. "What I mean by our interaction is, we need to stop fighting. It just makes America worry and he...well, I guess technically he's our _mother_ , he's the one who had us, but...right now, he's not at his best, so we need to protect him!"  
  
He only confused them more; they looked around at each other, trying to see if _anyone_ was understanding their oldest brother's intentions.  
  
"If he's our mother, shouldn't we call him that?" Massachusetts asked.  
  
"He won't like it," New Hampshire warned.  
  
"How would you know? Maybe he wants respect from us!"  
  
"How is it respectful calling a boy "Mother"?" New Hampshire gave this all of five second's reflection before changing his opinion of Massachusetts's suggestion. "Let's call him that the next time we see him."  
  
Both boys snickered.  
  
Virginia gave up on trying to braid her little sister's hair, as New Netherland sat down beside her. "You were just supposed to make those two stop fighting, now you're coming up with antics that are going to piss off our "mother"?"  
  
New Netherland smirked. "Do you see them fighting?"

Helplessly, Virginia watched her younger brothers scuffling among each other, but it was play fighting, not real fighting, and Massachusetts and New Hampshire were being careful with Connecticut and Rhode Island. "America's been in a good mood, you're going to kill it by banding all them into some project meant to annoy him?"  
  
"I don't think it'll annoy him. More like confuse him. He's in a good mood, right? This'll probably slide right off him!"  
  
Maryland got off Virginia's lap and went to roughhouse with her brothers.  
  
***  
  
When America first heard one of his children call him "mother," he assumed he was not hearing correctly. He didn't refer to himself as their parent, so why would they suddenly be addressing him as one--and _mother_ , of all things?  
  
Only he heard it again. Quite clearly this time. He'd handed New Hampshire a second bowl of stew, and the boy responded, "Thanks, Mother."  
  
America wasn't sure how to react. "Why did you say that?"  
  
Perturbed, New Hampshire frowned. "You don't want me being polite?"  
  
"No, why did you call me mother?"  
  
"Mama would be cuter," Virginia said, staring into her own bowl of stew. "Formality doesn't suit you." From the way she and New Netherland were determinedly not looking at any of their siblings, America gathered that they had put everyone up to this.  
  
"Mama!" Rhode Island yelled. America had been feeding the toddler spoonfuls of stew from his own bowl, because what little the boy ate wasn't worth the mess of giving him a dish.  
  
"You have to be a lady to be a mother," America insisted.  
  
New Netherland poked at a shred of carrot with his spoon. "You're a not a lady, _but_..." He scooped up the carrot bit and ate it, letting his sentence go unfinished.  
  
"I'm not a girl," America said flatly, unamused.  
  
The twins gave each other puzzled looks, and Maryland said, "But you had all us?"  
  
"That happens _how_?" Connecticut questioned.  
  
Oh, no. Was this turning into--? "How old are you?"  
  
"We're four," Maryland told her father.  
  
"I am not telling you about the birds and the bees at your age."  
  
"I already told them," Virginia said lightly.  
  
He turned to face her. Too fast; he had to hold onto the table edge to avoid losing his balance, which was made precarious from the weight of the baby. "Virginia! Why would you do that?"  
  
She didn't look at all bothered by his irritation, she just stirred her stew. "They're in the middle of a forest, do you suppose a four-year-old wouldn't notice their surroundings?"  
  
"And that had you feeling the need to explain to them for _what_ reason?"  
  
"Really, America, like seeing a bull slamming into a cow is a little thing they're going to look away from? They're _elk_. Very hard to miss. My God!"  
  
Everyone stopped eating and stared at her.  
  
America sat down, rubbing his stomach and feeling the baby's little feet kicking against his fingers. "Isn't New Netherland supposed to be the vulgar one?"  
  
"That was my impression," New Netherland said, disquieted.  
  
Virginia let her spoon drop into her bowl. "They're _boys_. They're going to be hearing and saying filthier things than what I can tell them. And since we're not a normal family, and therefore not respectable, once Maryland gets bigger, she'll have to work as a maid because there'll be no other jobs she can take, as a girl, and she'll be hearing all sorts of indecent things." She gave a little laugh at this. "Don't worry, baby sister, the gossip's worth emptying chamber pots."  
  
Maryland stared in horror. "I'm going to grow up to empty _chamber pots_?" She took note of this only, and not that her sister was taunting her.  
  
"Gross," Connecticut breathed, putting down his spoon.  
  
The rest of the boys laughed.  
  
Maryland's mouth twisted. "Mama, I'm staying with you forever."  
  
"You may have to, I'm not sure what else you'll be able to do. I can't marry any of you off. And don't call me mama."  
  
"Mama, _stew_ ," Rhode Island whined.

"Sorry, sorry, I forgot! But stop calling me mama. Seriously, don't call me that. Here." America spooned up the stew from his bowl and aimed it toward Rhode Island's open mouth. With his other hand, he kept rubbing his stomach; the baby seemed to be taking it out on him that it had so little room left.  
  
***  
  
America felt as if he had to follow everything he said with, "Stop calling me mama!" in the weeks afterward, but his children were hardly fighting and they did so much of the work of household and property that America only had to make sure there were clothing and diapers prepared for when the new baby arrived.  
  
He kept waiting for _something_ to go wrong. This kind of peace in his home wasn't _normal_.  
  
When he went into labor, he thought surely it would be difficult and _that_ was why there'd been such a calm prelude, with the pregnancy, but it went no harder than any of the other times. He knew how things were supposed to go, they were going exactly that way, he even was able to lay on his side and ride out most of the contractions. His back had been hurting all day. Virginia knew of this; she'd be able to guess what was up when the rest of the household saw America was keeping to his bedroom.  
  
The pain and pressure gripping his body shifted within him at some point, and thinking he was close to being able to push, America tried getting up, which took effort--he was getting sleepy, he'd been lying on his side for a long time, and he was so unsteady that he ended up sitting down while trying to get on his knees. His ass making contact with the floor hurt like hell. America hissed, held his breath, and leaned to the side, fast, so his weight was resting on his arm and thigh. Awkwardly, he dragged himself forward, arching his back to avoid hitting his stomach against the floor, and was able to get in a better position, kneeling, legs apart, with one arm over the bed to hold himself up.  
  
"I cannot wait to get you out of me," he huffed. He checked to see how far along he was.  
  
And then he realized the baby wasn't head-first, like it was supposed to be, but ass-first.  
  
"What the fuck?" How was he supposed to deliver this thing, if it wasn't even inside him the right way?  
  
"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. What am I supposed to do now?" Panicking, he pressed a hand to his stomach, considering if he could force the baby into lying differently inside, but sudden agony made America lose his train of thought. Holding onto the bed, he felt the familiar ripped-apart-inside pain he'd felt so many times before, and all he could do was try to breath through the burning. It barely abated; the contraction ended, while the pressure increased and the burning remained.  
  
Hoping he wasn't right on what he guessed had happened, America reached and felt that--wrong position though it was--the baby was coming out anyway, and there wasn't anything he could to stop it. It was going about the whole business on its own, or his body was forcing it out despite the position being unideal. He groaned, cursing being the wrong gender for this. "If I were a girl, people would have told horror stories in front of me! I'd have some idea what to do!" Why hadn't he spoken with Virginia, and found out if she'd learned anything from working in the village?  
  
He inhaled sharply at the next contraction, leaning onto the bed, feeling his face flush. When he could move, he tried checking the baby. It was poking out, having made little progress. America got an idea of how the legs were drawn up toward the chest--by slipping his fingers inside, he could feel where the feet were--and he thought maybe he could draw them out separately, very gently, which would straighten the baby and get it out easier. He was only able to think of doing this. Another contraction came, and with it, America pushed against his will. He tried to stop himself but could not.

The baby was moving outward, he could feel it. It hurt every bit as badly as delivering a baby head first hurt. But it _was_ coming out, and encouraged, America kept pushing--till the baby stuck fast, and America realized he was in for a hell of a time getting the shoulders and head delivered.  
  
He spent the next several minutes swearing loudly, not caring if the whole household heard.  
  
***  
  
Feeling somewhat less frustrated--but in no less pain--America supported the baby's back while assessing how much was left for him to do. Shoulders, arms, head. He could get the arms freed, the same way he'd been planning to help with the legs, and that might work on the shoulders...then what? Keep pushing, till the head was out? He didn't see how he _could_ do anything more.  
  
Having this much of the baby delivered was unbearable; the stretching and burning should have lasted only minutes, yet neither was stopping. He felt sickened, holding part of the baby while having to manually try and help the rest of it out. He pushed so hard he got a headache. He pushed some more and felt like vomiting. He kept on pushing, not knowing how long it was taking, till at last, the baby's skull had conformed to the right shape to come out, and all of the baby was in America's hand.  
  
He pressed it right away to his chest, before even moving to a sitting position for his own ease. He was still kneeling as he rubbed at the baby with a towel, scared by the lack of response from it. "Please do _something_ , baby," he pleaded. "Open your eyes, cough, move--anything, I don't care what."  
  
Its eyes were tightly shut. Its little nostrils flared, the mouth screwed up, then it twitched its arms and legs, as if in as much pain as America.  
  
He laughed in relief, heart racing, as he continued to rub the baby hard, not liking how cold it was. "Are you a boy or a girl?" he asked, when it started choking out unhappy cries. "Another boy. I hope your sisters aren't disappointed. You have two of them, just for the record. And five brothers." He was so grateful it was over with and Sweden's baby hadn't died that America couldn't help rambling at his newborn. "You gave me a lot of trouble! None of your brothers and sisters pulled a stunt like that, when they arrived!"  
  
Briefly, the miscarriage came back to him. He stopped smiling.  
  
"Not thinking of that. Not now. This isn't the time." He looked back down at his baby. The child's head was oddly shaped from the recent delivery, and though he'd somehow ended up less bruised than America's other babies (except for his face), he looked worse than all of them for getting squished for so long. America was cheered up by how grumpy the baby appeared; he took it as a sign his son might end up looking like Sweden.  
  
He remained on the floor much longer than was necessary, cradling and admiring his new baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another gross birth scene! And elk sexings! And family members only getting along when they're plotting against another member!
> 
> I swear this is going somewhere. Thank you for reading. ♥


	16. Chapter 16

"The mama jokes didn't last, so I wasn't annoyed by them for too long. The kids got tired of it some time after Delaware was born," America finished.  
  
It was a weird stopping point, and not part of anything Canada had asked, but America wanted to talk without giving up his memories of Sweden, and pointless babbling gave him time to think of safer things to tell his twin. Canada had been indulging him, and though America hadn't intended it, he'd gradually gravitated toward his brother while talking, till he was against Canada's shoulder and Canada had put his arms around him again. Holding Alaska, America gave off a greater impression of vulnerability. He didn't even know of this as he mentally deliberated on how to keep Canada's undivided attention without talking about anything too serious.  
  
Problem was, he'd been happier with Delaware, but he'd also started making some incredible fuck ups around that time.  
  
"Well, I _thought_ they were bored. It turned out I was wrong, and they weren't bored with the joke, they were getting pissed at me," America admitted. If he was talking about Delaware and the lead up to Netherlands coming back, then England coming back to find two more children who weren't his in the household, at least he wouldn't be talking about Sweden. "There were enough people in the house at that time to spread out the work of taking care of everyone, and I was more experienced. I was able to concentrate on the new baby only, without the 'Oh shit, how did this happen and how am I going to hide it and provide for this kid?' panicking. It was kind of a luxury! Delaware was the eighth kid I'd had and ended up being the first one I actually felt parental about."  
  
"You didn't feel like a parent to _any_ of the children you'd had before then?" Canada asked. "How does that happen when you're the one having and taking care of seven kids?"  
  
"Hell if I know! Even birthing them didn't change the fact that most of the time, I was on auto-pilot, raising them. I guess it was a survival tactic? Forget the bad, so it doesn't keep you down! I felt protective of them, and I wanted them to be well and happy, but somehow, I didn't feel the same way with the other states before Delaware, as I did with Virginia and New York. Maybe I just wasn't able to bond with them right. I did rely a lot on the older two. Which...gave them more reason to resent me, when all of them were already catching on that I was paying more attention to Delaware than I ever had with them. Then all of us were getting frustrated, because we weren't seeing any of the countries who used to visit, and we heard of wars in Europe but couldn't find out what was going on--if Virginia and New York asked the settlers, they were always told to go home and ask their parents, they were too young to be hearing about politics."  
  
Canada saw the hitch. "The parents, in their case, being only you, and you didn't look like an adult, so no one was going to tell you anything either. I remember then, you had more of an overgrown puppy look going for you for the longest time."  
  
"Yeah," America agreed. " _Sometimes_ people believed me if I tried saying I was fourteen, but usually, they thought I was just big for my age. We didn't have any adults, we didn't have any money coming in from England, and no one official helping us because everyone in government thought England was taking care of me, so why would I be needing anything? I didn't even know who _was_ in charge, of my land, with all the different settlements! Then somehow it turned out we made it that far with a household full of illiterate people--New York learned to read and write, but he was always off doing something else, and Virginia and I didn't think it was important."  
  
***  
  
How could Virginia be so unconcerned about not even having the capability of signing her own name?  
  
"Books and newspapers are a waste of money. Who cares if I can't write a letter myself? There're people in the settlement who can."  
  
"Paying someone to write for you wastes money too! For acting like you're the only practical one in the family, you're awfully selective about what is or isn't necessary."  
  
"I don't see reading or writing being any help to America, do you?"

New Netherland had never seen America with a book. He'd also never seen him write anything. America claimed his hand writing was barely legible and since New Netherland's penmanship was so much better, it was just best overall if New Netherland took care of any letters that needed to be written. Now New Netherland wondered if that true, or merely a cover up. "He's still better off than you."  
  
"Tch. Well, I _would_ have learned if he'd read to me right in the first place. He read all the time, _wrong_ , how was I to learn from him?"  
  
Trying to get her to learn along with the younger children was a frustrating process. If New Netherland told Virginia to read back to him a sentence he'd just read out loud, she'd scramble up the order of the words, or drop words from the sentence. It was very strange. A significant portion of the words didn't seem to exist for her, when Virginia looked in the pages of a book.  
  
She got impatient, then discouraged. When four-year-old Maryland and Connecticut were having a better go of it without the same problems, Virginia gave up and went to do "more important things."  
  
America didn't seem to think it was a problem. "So she's not good at reading. Neither am I! What of it?"  
  
Annoyed--how could his father see nothing wrong with this?--New Netherland insisted, "There's not being good at it and then there's having weird problems, and this is definitely a weird problem." He listed every observation he had.  
  
"Isn't that normal?" America asked, unconvinced.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, New Netherland stopped pestering his sister. He worked harder with his younger siblings, with the thought that if he couldn't help Virginia, he could at least make sure there were more people in the house capable of doing what she was unable and unwilling.  
  
***  
  
It was far too late when America finally stopped being biased, took a long hard look at how his children behaved among each other, and saw that Delaware was close to none of his siblings, and none of them seemed to care about him--and that was entirely America's doing.  
  
Having none of the resentment with this baby that he'd had with the others, America saw Delaware as less of an obligation, and having more time now, was able to dote on him. Consequently, the baby wanted nothing to do with his siblings. They resented him, so they didn't try getting close. America loved being adored. Unwisely, instead of encouraging bonding between the baby and older children, America let Delaware grow up following him about. It was the same trouble as he'd had with Virginia, a child not acting like one, only Delaware was even more serious than Virginia had been. Delaware did everything he was supposed to, on time, with ease, but he didn't talk much or even smile.  
  
It was creepy, to the other children, to see Sweden's stoicism replicated in such a small child, but America was reminded of the country and found his son to be adorable.  
  
***  
  
Time may have passed faster for him than for his children. America managed some trips to see Canada--taking Delaware, whom Canada never seemed to recognize as the same child each time--hung out a few more times in the woods, got in some visits to other settlements.  
  
Unfortunately, he was so over the moon about not being surrounded by children on these outings that he never remembered the reason he'd left, which was always to try and get news. Of France, of England, whoever, just any news at all would have been welcomed.  
  
He thought about making a trip south, to see if Spain was with any of the colonies he had.  
  
***  
  
Half the time, America didn't know where his children were.  
  
Virginia kept up her habit of taking servant jobs, then leaving when she'd stayed anywhere for too long, so there were long periods of time where she wasn't living under the same roof as the rest of her family. Maryland sometimes found jobs laundering people's clothing or scrubbing floors, but more often she was put in charge of trading pelts her brothers cured from the game they shot or trapped. It wasn't uncommon at any given time for one or more of the boys to be sleeping in the woods, just to get away from the crowded house.

The only one always around was Delaware, who was helpful to have in the house, but still a child and not much good for conversation.  
  
***  
  
It was right as America was really wanting companionship other than his children that Netherlands made a reappearance. Selfishly, America was thrilled that New Netherland was out of the house.  
  
Not wanting to explain the other children, America dragged Netherlands up to the bedroom. "You can tell me what everyone's been up to! I haven't heard from _anyone_! Start talking!"  
  
"I'm not telling you anything," Netherlands said, seeming caught off guard by ending up in America's bedroom. "I don't know who you're friendly with, what if someone I've been fighting with is using you as a spy?"  
  
"I _can't_ be a spy for anyone, there's no one around to ask me to do that." Great, another wasted opportunity on the _one_ time he'd remembered to be responsible and seek news before intimacy. Well, it wasn't like he hadn't tried.  
  
Qualms over America being a spy didn't put off Netherlands from fucking the colony, right then and there. He seemed to enjoy it more this time, now that America had grown out of being child-sized and didn't lie on the bed the whole time under Netherlands, silently accepting it. America was responsive, getting loudly vocal and trying to force Netherlands's cock deeper into his ass. Netherlands's swearing-during-sex no longer scared America; if anything--now that he actually had developed a sex drive--it excited him. With Netherlands, the act felt combative, far different from sex with Sweden, but still gratifying.  
  
After it was over, America was shaking and wondering if he'd be able to walk--and not much caring if he couldn't--when Netherlands lazily asked, "You locked that door, didn't you?"  
  
"Locked it? There's no locks on any of the doors in this house, what are you thinking?" Then America thought about how loud he'd been. "Oh goddammit!"  
  
"This is your house, you should have known if it was safe," Netherlands said. "Put a chair or something under the handle and block it, then let's have at it again."  
  
"Yeah, I want to do it again," America said. "Fuck, my legs are all wobbly!"  
  
"You're not gonna be sitting for days," Netherlands bragged.  
  
At this, America was tempted to forget about the door and just get back in bed, to see if Netherlands was right with his prediction, but he was already at the door. He looked for something heavy enough to block it, and then heard a noise out in the hall. His insides felt like they had turned to ice. Hoping he was hearing things, America slowly opened his bedroom door.  
  
New Netherland was seated to the right of the doorway.  
  
"Why the _fuck_ are you listening outside my door?" America snapped, partly mortified, partly outraged.  
  
"Told ya they both were in there," another voice said. America leaned out, and saw Delaware sitting to the left of the doorway.  
  
"Both of you. _Get out of here._ " If he wasn't naked, he'd be out of the room beating both his sons.  
  
With a rage America had never heard in his oldest son, New Netherlands snarled, "Not even going to let me meet my father? Or were you hoping to sneak him out of the house before I found out he was here?"  
  
"I will let you talk to him later," America hissed. "Right now, you need to go away!"  
  
"You didn't tell him," Delaware said flatly.  
  
"Yeah. He didn't." New Netherland sounded disgusted.  
  
"Who are you talking to?" Netherlands asked. "One of those kids? Tell them to get the hell out of here for a while."  
  
" _You_ get the hell out!" New Netherland hollered furiously, getting to his feet. " _Asshole_!"  
  
America heard Netherlands getting out of bed, and closed the door, wanting to get some clothes on before the freaking out began.  
  
"You let them talk to you like that? They're gonna be rotten to the core if you let them run all over--what...the...fuck?" Netherlands was looking into the hallway, and had just laid eyes on New Netherland, who, out of all of America's children, was the only who did not look anything like America, but entirely took after Netherlands in appearance.  
  
New Netherland sneered at his father.  
  
Netherlands was rendered speechless.  
  
Delaware glared at Netherlands. "Stay away from our mother."

"Not this again!" America didn't know where Delaware picked this up from. He hadn't been born, when that joke had started, and he and New Netherland had never shown an interest in each other--did his children really have that big a problem with countries coming around, that they'd form an alliance to defend the parent who'd borne them?  
  
"...mother?" Netherlands turned to America, looking a bit pale. "You're not a girl." He seemed to be comprehending the situation, yet desperately not wanting to and wanting America to deny it all.  
  
"He's the one who had us," Delaware said flatly.  
  
Netherlands stared at Delaware. The little boy looked enough like Sweden that anyone who knew Sweden would be able to infer he was the father of this child. "How...how many of you are there?"  
  
"Eight," Delaware told him. "I'm the youngest."  
  
Netherlands shut the bedroom door.  
  
America wondered if the country was going to pass out. "Sit down," he suggested.  
  
Netherlands obeyed, deeply horrified. "Why does he look ten? I was here before 1620. It's 1660. He looks ten. Why is that?"  
  
He'd be fine if he passed out now. America didn't care how stunned Netherlands was, and if he got angry about this, he could leave. There had been nothing stopping Netherlands from sending a letter, it was his own fault he missed out. "They don't age very fast. Virginia looks twelve, she's got about a decade on him. I have twins who are nearly thirty and they look six. Delaware's the littlest, he's...just over twenty? and looks five, I think he's aged the fastest, after Virginia."  
  
***  
  
When Netherlands finally pulled himself together, he tried talking with New Netherland, but New Netherland ignored his father's overture.  
  
America watched, with the uncomfortably guilty feeling that he wasn't exactly saddened by his son not warming up to his other father. He caught Delaware staring at him. "You're supposed to be on my side, kid. What happened?"  
  
Taking his father's hand, Delaware also watched Netherlands's futile attempts. "New Netherland had a right to know."  
  
America sighed. "And I didn't have any rights to be with his father before he got to see him, right?"  
  
Delaware remained impassive, but America sensed his youngest child agreed with this entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is finally going somewhere!! Fuck yes!!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: breastfeeding

Remorse had not been expected from America, but he still managed to catch his children off guard by falling into a monumental sulk that lasted weeks, and probably would have stretched on for months--if America hadn't gotten another baby out of the fiasco with Netherlands.  
  
America was selfishly pleased when he found out. His older children were judgmental pains in the ass who blamed him for everything under the sun. Babies only cared about being provided food and comfort. America missed being needed by his children, and looked forward to the simplicity of a baby being his top priority.  
  
His happiness was increased by the easy pregnancy that followed. For several peaceful months, America worried over nothing bigger than cleaning and making sure everything he had for the baby was in order.  
  
***  
  
Then New Jersey was born, and cracks started forming in America's happiness.  
  
It wasn't the baby tarnishing the experience. America still wanted the child, and liked having another daughter, when he only had Virginia and Maryland, but in the hours after the baby's birth, America was beset by restlessness--paradoxically while _exhausted_ \--and he started entertaining a paranoid certainty that if he even allowed _one day_ to lapse in Netherlands's children meeting, there'd be no hope of closeness between New Netherland and New Jersey.  
  
He tried manipulation. New Netherland just gave America a why-would-you-do-this-to-me? look, as he listlessly held his newborn sister while seated on America's bed.  
  
"How long do I have to hold her?" New Netherland asked abruptly.  
  
"Don't you want to?" God knew the baby's _looks_ weren't going to charm her older brother--New Jersey was too squished and bruised for that--but she was also tiny and helpless, which might inspire feelings of protectiveness in New Netherland.  
  
"No. Why would I? She's _your_ baby!"  
  
Disappointed, America accepted back his newborn, relenting that his scheme had been ill-planned. Not only that, New Netherland wasn't even the only one of his children to end up in the room, and America wanted to be alone with the baby.  
  
Rhode Island and Delaware were on either side of him, huddled as closely as was possible without leaning on America or doing any jostling to him. Delaware had been the baby for years, and Rhode Island was too close in age to have any memories of when Delaware was born. America's withdrawal for the past days didn't worry the older children, but the younger boys didn't know what to think, and nothing their older siblings said could stop Rhode Island and Delaware from imagining the worst, after hearing the sounds that had been coming from their father's bedroom. When America had called New Netherland into the room, both boys crept in after their older brother. America didn't have the heart to make them leave.  
  
He didn't even want New Netherland around, but America's nervousness had him remembering the mistake he'd made with Delaware--setting one of his children apart from the rest--and he didn't want the blunder repeated this time with New Jersey.  
  
New Netherland, instead of leaving the room, sat down again on the end of the bed.  
  
America watched his oldest son cautiously. Was New Netherland staying here a good sign?  
  
Baby sister now within their reach, the younger boys were able to get a good look at New Jersey. Delaware gently traced her cheek. Rhode Island tapped her little nails, then learned these were incredibly sharp, when New Jersey's newborn reflexes kicked in and she grasped at him. Wondering if the baby could draw blood, Rhode Island let her cling to him, but she only held onto his finger tightly.  
  
"It's not that I'm curious over the matter," New Netherland said, sounding bored, "but you noticed we haven't had any goats for years, haven't you? How were you planning on feeding that baby?"  
  
Why was this coming up _now_? "None of you ever got a new one?"  
  
"We used to trade," Rhode Island said. New Jersey had let go of him and he was examining his finger, which only had an indentation mark, not even a scratch, much less blood. "If we didn't wind up with the right kind to breed, that is, but you had us do a trade so everyone could have shoes, remember?"  
  
"You traded _all_ of them for shoes? That was paying too much!"

"He didn't overpay," New Netherland said, in Rhode Island's defense. "All of us know how to not get cheated. Two goats went into getting shoes for the household. The third got sick and died. And the last..."  
  
"We traded it for a peach tree," Rhode Island finished.  
  
"Why the fuck would you trade livestock for a tree?" America nearly yelled. In his arms, New Jersey wrinkled up her face, threatening to cry. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't cry, baby." He held her closer, which gave her free reign to root against his chest, and unhappily, America realized he was going to have to nurse the new baby.  
  
"Everyone hated the goats," Delaware pointed out, eyes on New Jersey.  
  
"No one hated the goats. Everyone loved the goats!" Now that he thought about it, he didn't even drink goat's milk, except when he'd been pregnant and couldn't keep anything else down. The children made cheese out of it, since yogurt was an effective starter and from there, it took little effort to make curds. The entire household liked cheese much more than milk, but aside from eating goat cheese, America really only paid attention to the animals when he needed them to feed his babies.  
  
New Netherland said, "Even you hated the goats. You prefer dumping out chamber pots to taking care of them, how can you say you liked them?"  
  
"I've cleaned up the shit and piss of so many of you that I lost the ability to get squeamish by it." That and vomit. Sure, all those things were disgusting, but America didn't even flinch at the sight of them now.  
  
"Gross!" Rhode Island and New Netherland responded. Delaware continued watching his baby sister.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me sooner that we no longer had a goat?" America asked, sullenly.  
  
"Why didn't _you_ notice? Your eyes still work, don't they?"  
  
"No one else is here, I'm going to check on the kitchen fire. It was burning low," Rhode Island said, slipping off the bed and leaving the room.  
  
Delaware muttered something about having bread crusts to give the chickens. He followed Rhode Island.  
  
America glowered at his oldest son.  
  
New Netherland turned haughty. "Before you say, 'Virginia would have known to make sure we had a goat!', _she's_ the one who told us to trade the last one we had."  
  
Stunned out of his belligerence, America asked, "Why would she have told you that?" Virginia had always sided with _him_. She'd been his champion, out of all the children!  
  
"She said you should be feeding the baby yourself. It's a waste of our resources to pay for something you're capable of doing."  
  
"Oh, she didn't like the goats, either?"  
  
" _No_. Well-- _probably_ she didn't. Since none of us did. But that's not the point!"  
  
Whatever the point was, America didn't care. If it had been any of the children other than Virginia making that decision, he'd have been deeply angered; Virginia would have a reason behind this line of thinking, and whether America agreed with it or not, he currently couldn't do anything to change the matter.  
  
New Jersey connected her little mouth against his collar bone. Feeling the sucking motions she was making, America pulled the baby away. Her tongue was poking out of her mouth, and she looked so goofy that America smiled at her, promptly forgetting he'd been upset with his son, or worried about relationships between his children. "You have the longest eyelashes," he told his baby daughter. "You're going to be so pretty in a few months! And your hair's all _fluffy_!"  
  
New Netherland gave up any attempt of continuing conversation, and left, finally giving America the privacy he wanted with his new baby.  
  
***  
  
Maintaining a watch-and-learn attitude had served Delaware well with his father, and the habit was serving just as well with his older siblings.

He wasn't used to the others talking to him, before the family drama concerning New Netherland's father. With the coming sibling, Rhode Island--having as little idea of what to expect of America's condition--was asking Delaware questions, trying to compare observations. After getting the head's up from his youngest brother, New Netherlands had seemed to take a liking to Delaware, bringing him along to the settlement to buy supplies and to visit Virginia. Delaware had only ever gone anywhere with his father, and being out with a ten-year-old (instead of someone who could more or less pass for a teenager) was incredibly different. People assumed when Delaware was with America that America was Delaware's minder. When Delaware was with New Netherland, both boys were assumed to be playmates.  
  
The only reason New Netherland visited Virginia was to vent. Delaware agreed it was bad form for their father to keep Netherlands to himself, when Netherlands had been there, but listening to his older brother, Delaware thought that New Netherland was carrying on a bit much.  
  
"He's being _rewarded_ for his treachery!"  
  
"Excuse me--he's _what_?" Virginia was making an effort not to laugh at the dramatic outcry. She feigned sympathy to New Netherland, but their father's tryst with Netherlands struck her as hilarious, which Delaware could tell even New Netherland saw, despite being absorbed in his outrage.  
  
"He's _being rewarded_. He wants this baby. He's happy about it. He got rewarded for doing something he shouldn't have!" New Netherland noticed Virginia's lips twitching. "You wouldn't be laughing if England had done this!"  
  
"No, I'd be furious." Virginia couldn't help smiling. "But he _didn't_ do it this time!"  
  
" _Stop laughing_!"  
  
Unable to, Virginia cackled helplessly for a brief spell, then--that out of her system--was unsmiling, as she said severely, "Right then. New Netherland? _Enough_. You've had your fill of whining, and you've as much as admitted you're only mad because your father did this. America's _lonely_. Have some pity!"  
  
This made no impact on New Netherland. "Best reason ever to have another child, when he's got a houseful of us he can't keep track of."  
  
"I didn't say it was a _good_ reason," Virginia admonished. "But he hasn't had a baby for twenty years, he probably misses the affection. And if he can't help having us, isn't it better that he has even a foolish want for us? He could hate us! He could blame _us_ that he can't get out more, explore, know what's going on with his citizens and land."  
  
" _He's_ the people, isn't he? He should already know."  
  
When her green eyes narrowed the way they were at this moment, Virginia looked like a hissing cat. "And again, you're blaming him because you're angry. Have you ever seen _any_ evidence of him magically knowing more than we do? I will tell you this: he gets into moods, _sometimes_ , if enough people are angered or the right amount of people are faring really well. And he knows the names of new places, without being told--but only after having a baby for that place. There was one time he was harmed because the people were harmed, and even that was impossible to pinpoint to any certain event."  
  
"I've never seen anything happen to him," New Netherland insisted stubbornly.  
  
Neither had Delaware, who was listening closely to his sister and brother, because America never explained any of this clearly.  
  
Not only did America not appear to get hurt very often, the few times he _was_ harmed, he tended to heal much faster than what was normal for anyone who'd been injured. Delaware and his siblings never came down with illnesses, and they were all much stronger than human children, but if they got hurt, recovery took time. Delaware didn't know why they were different, in this way, from their father.

Virginia cast a suspicious look on Delaware, and he knew then she hadn't shut up because of saying more than she'd meant to while losing her temper at New Netherland. She was reluctant over what to give away, in front of _him_ , her youngest brother. After some consideration--during which Delaware fully expected his sister to tell him to go away until she was done talking--Virginia deemed it worth telling both her brothers, though she addressed what she had to say to New Netherland. "You wouldn't remember because you were a baby at the time, but there was one of us, after you and before Massachusetts, who died. It was far along enough that it messed America up, and he got so depressed over losing it that he became obsessed with...replacing it. Haven't you _wondered_ why he's just been going along with this, all these times?"  
  
"No. You've always said he didn't have any choice."  
  
"But even then, a person would at least be angered at the circumstances, or _trying_ to put up a fight! He doesn't act the way he does to spite us, so stop making things harder on him. There've been consequences for him, even if you don't see every one of them."  
  
New Netherland gave no indication that he cared, but after that visit, Delaware noticed his older brother eased up on the complaints, and was at the house more often, especially as their newest sibling's due date approached. And even though Virginia had put her foot down at him, instead of going along with his venting, New Netherland still brought Delaware along to visit their older sister.  
  
***  
  
Whatever was keeping his children acting low-key, America prayed would last, because although no longer pregnant, he was still busy, constantly, with the baby.  
  
Breastfeeding for the second time was viewed by America with the same opinion he held over Delaware's birth being a breech delivery: just because he _could_ do it didn't mean he _wanted_ to ever do it again. Nursing caused a tightness to his chest and made his nipples sting, New Jersey left bruises on him, the milk didn't stop when the baby was done eating and it leaked onto all of America's shirts. There was another problem, that America had thought would end with the pregnancy: non-stop hunger, where no matter how much he ate, it wasn't enough.  
  
He couldn't eat while the baby was nursing, and New Jersey took forever to feed. If America held the baby with one arm, she'd stop latching, and fuss so loudly that America would feel like he was torturing her. She fell asleep _while_ suckling, and thinking she was through, America would lift her off his chest--and that would get her going, crying some more. Ironically, night feedings turned out to be the only times New Jersey nursed without trouble, when America slept with the baby lying on his chest, but being in bed all the time would have driven America crazy.  
  
The children all thought their father just didn't want to breastfeed, and was whinging out of resentment. Then America started camping out in the kitchen and the others saw for themselves how often New Jersey nodded off during meals.  
  
"Maybe she's doing it wrong," Maryland suggested.  
  
"She's just lazy." America flicked the bottom of one of the baby's feet, something she hated him doing to her, and she squirmed awake, looking grumpy. America's resentment outweighed his baby's crankiness. "Eat, or let someone else hold you, so _I_ can get some food."  
  
Delaware offered America a spoonful of his porridge.  
  
"Awww, thank you!" America chewed twice before making a face. "What is this? Who made this?"  
  
"I did," Maryland said. "Just _what_ is wrong with it?"  
  
"It's gross," America told her rudely.  
  
"You're welcome to cook your food yourself," she threatened. She looked like him, not at all like England, but there was a practicality bordering on surliness to Maryland that reminded America of England. If Maryland had been able to grow to adulthood, she probably would have been a domineering woman, being used to consorting with her brothers. As things stood, she was calculating enough to use her cuteness to her advantage, and the children made better trades with Maryland's youthful, seeming helplessness, than they could when the boys alone handled trades.

"I'm hungry, I'll eat it." It tasted slightly better after Delaware mixed in some sugar, but America figured later on he'd privately ask Delaware to never let his sister cook again.  
  
Connecticut came in, with eggs from their hens. He was on the verge on saying something, then looked confused, as he stood in the kitchen, sniffing. "It smells like laundry in here."  
  
Maryland looked like she was itching to throw the ladle she'd been using to stir the porridge. "It's not laundry!"  
  
"Don't tell me you cooked." Connecticut looked to where his younger brother was seated, beside America. "Delaware, have you been poisoned?"  
  
"s'fine if you put sugar in it," Delaware mumbled, through a mouthful of porridge.  
  
"See?" Maryland huffed at her twin.  
  
"It's nothing to me if people die from your cooking. Oh--someone's coming here," Connecticut announced. "I think he's a country. Massachusetts and New Hampshire seem to know him, they and Rhode Island are talking with him now. I saw them all together."  
  
"Fuck," America whispered, in a panic. He handed the protesting New Jersey to Delaware, so he could fix his shirt. "Now is not the time to be dealing with any of them!" Netherlands couldn't be back, could he? The children would have recognized him, and not reacted kindly to seeing him again. Well, it had to be someone they knew, or why would they be talking with him--unless they were intentionally giving America time to look less conspicuous?  
  
"I hope it's not France." There was a strange, contemplative look about Maryland. "Virginia said that every time France has been here, New Netherland stares at him the way grown men stare at whores."  
  
"You must have heard wrong." America was horrified. France hadn't visited recently, either--how could he miss his little boy _lusting_ after the country?  
  
"Did he have long, blond hair?" Maryland asked, unmindful of her father's dismay.  
  
"No." Connecticut had carried in the eggs using his shirt, and was lifting them now, one by one, into a bowl on the table. "He didn't have long hair, but he definitely had--"  
  
A loud creaking came from the next room, as the back door was opened, then multiple voices were trying to talk over each other as a number of people came into the house, but America was only hearing one of the voices. All the rest sounded like babble.  
  
"It's something good, but I told you, I'll only give you the bag once you answer me properly! Now, is he here or not?"  
  
Three near decades was enough of an absence for America to forget that his guardian had been irritating the hell out of him every time he was at the house, and he felt nothing but elation as England came into the kitchen. "England, you're back! There was nothing to worry about then!"  
  
Connecticut and Maryland looked at each other quickly; they knew England was their other father, but they were too young to remember him.  
  
England did not seem happy about returning, and his flustered appearance stopped America's smiling, as nervously, he studied England and took in how the country seemed rather jumpy.  
  
"What's going on between you and Netherlands?" England rarely was this sharp with America, and he never before had snapped in such a manner when greeting his colony. "Netherlands went to the trouble of seeing me, with everything I have going on, just to call me a 'sick bastard' and say that I'd best stay away from you!" Aghast at seeing the baby, England did not even catch that she was held by an equally unfamiliar older child. "Have you replaced me with _Netherlands_?"  
  
Where had England gotten _that_ idea?  
  
"Delaware's not yours either!" New Hampshire supplied cheerfully, from behind England. "I know we didn't tell you about Netherlands, but can we have the bag now anyway?"  
  
Shocked to speechlessness, England handed over the bag. He stared at Delaware, unable to ignore who had obviously fathered the boy.  
  
"You were _gone_ ," America started defensively. "Sweden stopped by and was really, really, _really_ nice and one thing led to another and--"  
  
"I don't care about Sweden!" England interrupted. "I want to know about Netherlands! Even if you think you love him, he can't give you a better life than I can! Would you want him having anything to do with your children?"

What was going on? "Why would I love Netherlands? I've only seen him twice in my life!"  
  
"You don't...but he came to see me...and your new...is his, right...?"  
  
"The last time? Was one time only. He didn't even stay an entire day! New Netherland found out he was here and caught us...afterward. It was a shock to Netherlands, finding out about the kid, and he...didn't take it well."  
  
England seemed to be having trouble following. "So you and him aren't...?"  
  
"No." America laughed awkwardly. "You thought _that_? I missed you too much to replace you with him!"  
  
Delaware looked to Maryland and Connecticut, and without a word, all three got up to join their older siblings in the next room--Delaware taking New Jersey.  
  
Appearing dazed, England walked over to America, and sat down on the bench with him, startling the colony by embracing him fiercely. He was shaking slightly and his pulse felt wild to America, who was not used to seeing England lose it and found he didn't really like it. He put his arms around the country, hoping to soothe England.  
  
"What was in that bag?" Maybe normalcy would calm England down.  
  
"Sweets." England's voice sounded muffled. "I brought them sweets, the kind you can only get over here if you have the right connections. I...I thought it would make a good distraction for them."  
  
So England had presence of mind enough to be calculating, before coming here. That was actually reassuring. "Well, you're already on better footing than Netherlands ever was."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virginia was lying about the goats not being good resources. She didn't want to take care of them, and she wanted a peach tree. And Netherlands...disapproved of England not being with America, even though he himself had no room to talk.
> 
> Thanks for reading. ♥


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: breastfeeding, lactation kink???

About the only thing Netherlands's youngest brat was good for was that she tired out America too much for the colony to go after England with inquiries.  
  
England had been dreading fending off the boy's curiosity. He didn't like yelling at America to not ask questions, but so many of them were about things America didn't _need_ to know! The fighting that had been going on for so long in Europe was over, things were falling into an order that made sense, and England only wanted to think about the prospering of his citizens. Of course he'd tell his colony what had happened-- _later_ , when England was ready to and had found a way of telling it that was impressive, because damned if it _wasn't_ an accomplishment.  
  
The success of the Dutch in the new world was a threat. That was fortune the British weren't getting, and if left alone, Netherlands's people would just keep on gaining and then probably go after what the British had worked so hard for. Damn Netherlands. How dare he show up with insults? He'd been with America too, and wasn't it _more_ shameful, bedding the colony and then running out on him? England wasn't always around, but he kept coming back, and _not_ only when he wanted a conjugal visit! Though reasoning like that was hard to believe, when he'd come back because of hearing Netherlands had established another province in the new world--and sure enough, when England was back with his colony, the boy had _another_ child.  
  
And if Netherlands came back? England wasn't sure he trusted America's assurance of not having found replacement in the other country. Baby New Jersey, too little to be away from America, wouldn't allow England to forget Netherlands had managed a second visit.  
  
What he needed to do, England decided, was make sure he was the only country giving America babies from now on.  
  
***  
  
He was fairly certain Sweden wouldn't be coming back into the picture, but that didn't stop England from trying to find out more about what the country had with America, from America's children.  
  
"Your father--"  
  
"Mother," New Hampshire corrected, out of habit.  
  
England felt himself already growing frustrated. Why the hell had America spoiled these children so? There was probably no hope of rehabilitating them so they'd be fit for society! "America is not a girl."  
  
Massachusetts found a way of disagreeing with logic. "It's 'mother' for the parent who has you."  
  
The concurrence the children voiced--all but oldest and youngest were there--warned England that he'd have an argument on his hands if he kept going against them, and what the children called America was not a worthwhile fight. He could try fixing that at a later time. "Very well. Mother. Your _mother_ \--"  
  
"Oh, good God in heaven. You didn't get him pregnant again, did you? Is that it?" Maryland demanded.  
  
"Stupid," Connecticut scorned. Curiously, he said this softly, while keeping out of arm's reach of his sister. Were these the two that were twins? England couldn't remember. "He's been back a day or two--that's too soon to have anything done to America."  
  
New Netherland swatted Connecticut over the head. "Don't call your sister stupid!"  
  
"Ow! What? Why? It was a stupid question!"  
  
"It's not, there's no telling what England's capable of, in less than two days. _Anyone_ with sense would be asking the same!"  
  
"You're right..." Now Connecticut wore an expression of disgust matching his sister's.  
  
Were they _trying_ to lower his opinion of them? "You shouldn't be concerning yourselves of what adults do!"  
  
Saying this was a mistake. The children were touchy about being trapped in eternal youthfulness, and _knew_ England was to blame for their troubles.  
  
"You can't be stupid to have gotten all you have," New Netherland warned, "so why can't you get it through your head we're not children?"  
  
Delaware spoke up. "I'm more'n twenty, and I'm second youngest."  
  
"You're--oh, I don't even care. You're not children! _There_. I'm agreeing with you! Now I want to know about Sweden."  
  
"I remember him!"  
  
"Rhode Island, you were a baby," New Hampshire discredited. "You do not remember Sweden. And Delaware wasn't born then and New Netherland never met him."

"I do _too_ remember him. He was nice! He cooked us fish in the morning, and he held me so America could eat some too."  
  
This surprised everyone, or else all the older children were recalling the time, to ascertain if their little brother actually had such an early memory.  
  
Massachusetts was first to confirm. "Yeah, that happened! Well, I'll be damned. You really did remember him!"  
  
"He cooked for you? All of you?" That wasn't good. The country had been making himself at home, the whole time he was here! "And you liked it?"  
  
"Yes, it wasn't bad," Maryland said.  
  
"Dammit. What else?"  
  
Maryland smiled slowly, a devious glint in her eyes. "Are you _jealous_?"  
  
Losing interest in the interrogation, Connecticut dug up half-hearted information, saving England from Maryland. "He helped out America. He did a lot of stuff. It made America happy, he was..."  
  
"What? He was _what_?" England didn't like how the child had trailed off.  
  
New Netherland picked up where his younger brother left off. "He was stuck around a bunch of little kids. He was miserable. That stopped after Sweden was here."  
  
"I wish Sweden would come back," New Hampshire said.  
  
Delaware, indignity pulling him out of his apathy so he appeared perturbed, said, "I want to meet him."  
  
"You'd love him!" Maryland promised.  
  
"I'd have to say he's the most useful country, out of all our fathers," Massachusetts judged.  
  
"I'm standing right here, brat," England said. "At least wait till I'm gone to say things like that."  
  
Amused, New Netherland pointed out, "Sweden probably wouldn't have asked us what _you'd_ done, with America." It was almost a compliment, something America claimed the boy didn't give lightly to countries.  
  
***  
  
Had America put his children up to abusing England's uncertainty?  
  
The colony wasn't stupid. America didn't use common sense nearly enough, in England's opinion, but England sometimes suspected America played dumb on purpose--because he found it funny, testing other peoples' patience, or maybe it was just a way of getting out of doing things he didn't want to do. England knew for a fact America wasn't incapable of empathy; America had been such a sweet child. Growing up couldn't be enough to rid him of that quality!  
  
Which left the alternative as the children making a collective choice to behave intolerably with England.  
  
"Virginia says the only reason you're back is to take all trade away from Netherlands, is that true?" New Netherland asked out of the blue one morning.  
  
"It is _not_ true! I'm back because the priorities of my people have shifted from fighting to overseeing importing and exporting." That was a very general way of covering any number of activities, without resorting to lies.  
  
Maryland faced England, frustrated. "You said when you came back it was because of Netherlands. Were you or were you not competing with him for our mother's love?"  
  
"Don't ask questions like that!"  
  
"And don't call me your mother!"  
  
New Netherland, eying Maryland, said, "England was in a fight with Netherlands?" He'd been out hunting when England showed up and missed the reunion between the country and America.  
  
"He came in here bellowing, 'You may love Netherlands better, but he can't give you the life I can!' It was the most gallant thing I ever saw," Maryland sighed.  
  
America thought their daughter's rewriting of the event was funny. England was embarrassed. New Netherland laughed with a short, dismissive sharpness. He then sneered at New Jersey (in America's arms as usual), before leaving the house, yelling in the yard for Massachusetts and New Hampshire to accompany him.  
  
***  
  
He was being cautious, but he didn't see why he and America couldn't have time alone. When America was able to get New Jersey napping without holding her, he'd just _watch_ the baby while she slept, not take the chance to go off and do something else. It was as if he was _happy_ , doing _nothing_ with his child.  
  
"Hand her off to Delaware for an hour, he likes holding her."

America didn't grasp what England wanted (or he was pretending to not understand). "Of course he likes holding her, she's his little sister and she's _adorable_!" He was curled on his bed, propping himself up with one elbow, while resting one hand on his daughter's back. "It's good to see Delaware so taken with her, New Netherland doesn't like her at all."  
  
England, defeated, backed off. He was too afraid pressuring America would make America think better of Netherlands.  
  
***  
  
Because he couldn't ignore his obligations, he left and came back periodically, trying to stay away no longer than a few days at a time. America did not know what England was doing, and if he asked, England grumbled vaguely about trade, which bored America, though on one memorable occasion, England had been so incensed by political trouble that he found himself snarling about "chasing off Indians," and he had a good idea America was hoping this was sarcasm, not what England had actually been doing.  
  
***  
  
"England took it personally that Netherlands had a cuter daughter than him. That's why he was gone all the time."  
  
Canada wished his brother would go to bed. Sleep deprivation had America going from making sense, trying to explain why he felt more parental over Delaware and the children after him, but not the ones before, to embarking on a lengthy rant complaining about how bratty his kids were. Somewhere in all that babble had been mentions of Netherlands and England, but the venting had gone to jumping all over the place.  
  
"You're saying England was away all the time because he didn't like your baby with Netherlands? America, isn't it more likely England was gone because his people were fighting Netherlands's people over trade routes? And land, too, right? Didn't England _take_ New Netherland's territory?"  
  
"Yeah! That was when England renamed New Netherland to New York!"  
  
Well, there was something more solid. Canada was going to ask if his brother had allowed it, or if it had been beyond his control--America _was_ still a colony at the time--when America suddenly looked in the direction of the playpen, and as if following a cue, Hawaii started making little chirping sounds.  
  
"I'll get her," Canada said, since his brother was still holding the sleeping Alaska. "She's been sleeping a long time, she probably needs a diaper change."  
  
"And something to eat," America said, getting up anyway. "I'm going to heat up a bottle for her."  
  
***  
  
A month went by with England leaving America alone every time America refused to give in to England's sexual advances, before the country lost patience. "There are better things you could be doing, besides watching her nap!"  
  
"Do you know what I went through, getting her to sleep?" America did not take his eyes off his baby. He was always holding her, because of the nursing, and his arms ached. He only wanted a break from holding her, he didn't want a break from _her_.  
  
"You have seven other children in this house! One of them can get her to sleep! She'll be fine, once she grows used to them. How will she know her older siblings if she's always with you?"  
  
He had sworn he wasn't going to create another situation like Delaware's. So why, then, was he so reluctant to give New Jersey up for even a short while?  
  
There was a slight creaking as England sat on the bed behind America, who didn't have time to wonder what his guardian was doing before England was kissing the back of America's neck.  
  
Fuck! "That's my weak spot!"  
  
"I know," England said smugly. "Why else do you think I'd do this?"  
  
His mouth on the back of America's neck was a gratifying sensation, and America was struggling to remember why he hadn't wanted England trying anything with him, when England made the mistake of moving his hands to America's chest--and at the added pressure to an already painful part of his body, America instinctively struck England. Knocking him right off the bed, even though America had only used one hand.  
  
"Goddammit!"  
  
America wasn't sorry. "You're around enough to know that's a sore spot for me, since I'm nursing. Next time don't touch a place on me that's causing me pain. You deserved that!"

Getting back up, England tried again, hugging America from behind. "Does it hurt when I do this?" He lightly rubbed at America's chest.  
  
"No...not exactly." It didn't feel good, either, and if England kept it up, America was going to wind up leaking onto his clothing. He made a move to push off England's hands, but then England went back to kissing America's neck, and lowered a hand to America's cock. America's anatomy was cooperating with England, not America's own will, and he squirmed in discomfort from the hard on he was getting. "New Jersey's still in the room," he whined, because he really did not want England to stop stroking him.  
  
"And Delaware's downstairs," England tempted.  
  
"Fuck. Call him. New Jersey can go an hour without being nursed."  
  
He didn't often let Delaware hold the baby, so the boy was too distracted by getting New Jersey all to himself to bother America about the sudden leniency. Delaware was in and out of the room before America could change his mind, and America was thankful, having been sure his youngest son would have known the instant he stepped into the room why America and England wanted the baby gone.  
  
England had America pressed flat on the bed once they couldn't hear Delaware's footsteps. His hand was back around the colony's cock before he even got America's pants pushed all the way off, and when America told England to handle him harder, England was surprised, but went with it. He also bit at America's neck, massively turning him on. Had that been the problem this whole time? That the sex hadn't been good because England was too _careful_? America was the same size as he'd been conceiving most of his children--it had only been with Virginia and New Netherland that he'd been child-sized himself--and he'd only liked the act when Sweden and Netherlands did it _because_ they'd been willing to get rougher about it. Being dominated, even if he knew he could throw off his bed partner, seemed to make the groping and fumbling somehow appealing.  
  
The warmth of England's hand, tightly gripping America-- _fuck_. It had nearly been a year since that last time with Netherlands, and it just wasn't the same, doing this himself. He tried to not make any noise as England manipulated him, but between England biting his neck and collar bone, and stroking his cock, America was in sensory overload. He thrust into England's hand, clutching at England's back and hair as the country kept biting at America's neck.  
  
The squeezing and rubbing went on for a sadly short time, before America came all over England's hand. Damn. He'd been hoping to last longer than that. England gave him a few extra grips, then wiped off the fluid onto America's skin. Not exactly pleasurable. They should have gotten a towel before doing this. Which reminded America--they weren't really prepared for doing anything else. He wasn't letting England penetrate him dry, and they didn't have anything in the room.  
  
England was not thinking of this. Having been fixated on America's neck, now he moved to America's chest, licking at America's nipples.  
  
Well then. America wasn't agitated by being touched there this time; he was too contented after getting off. But of all the things for England to want to do...! "I thought you wanted to...?"  
  
"You said your chest hurt. I'm making it not hurt."  
  
"How is licking me supposed to help?"  
  
"Hmph." England licked some more, then chose a side, and closing his mouth over the area around America's nipple, tried sucking. His mouth was a lot stronger than a baby's. Not expecting the mouthful of milk he got, for so little effort, England pulled away, choking, and went into a coughing fit.  
  
America laughed.  
  
"Shut up," England sputtered. "How does it take New Jersey so long to eat, when you can drown her with that?"  
  
"She's got a smaller mouth!"  
  
England rubbed at his face, licked his lips, glared at America's chest as if blaming the colony's nipples for the bad start--then tried again.

It wasn't sensual--well, obviously it was to England, or why would he be persisting?--but having someone much stronger do the suckling was easing the pain faster than the baby's nursing would have done. It still stung the same amount, but the tightness lessened. America's chest had only grown puffy, nothing dramatically different, and producing milk without his body making changes the way it had for each pregnancy was painful; he seemed to be supplying more than what New Jersey needed.  
  
A hand job _and_ his chest no longer hurting. America had no idea why England would rather do this than fuck, but if the country found this preferable, America was fine with it also.  
  
***  
  
He'd let England do that several more times. It really had helped, although it felt weird and never became a turn on for America.  
  
And now the formula he was heating up for little Hawaii was reminding America of England's fetish. Great. Maybe Canada would be willing to take care of this feeding, while America's mind was in the gutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write straight forward sex, and ended up writing lactation kink. I don't even know...
> 
> This part was originally much longer, but it had a lot of very different information going on, and wasn't reading like it belonged altogether, so that'll be in the next part. Thanks for reading! ♥


	19. Chapter 19

Allowing England that bit of debauchery had been all America needed to remember he liked sex, and for about a month, he went along with whatever England wanted.  
  
Inexplicably, America had been hit by a near insatiable lust. He couldn't think straight. He spent a lot of time squirming. Nothing helped, other than England's cock filling his ass. Worrying about what his children were thinking, America felt guilty, since England had taken to kicking the children out of the house any time he wanted a lay, but if America hadn't been feeding New Jersey, the children might never have seen him at all.  
  
He _tried_ cutting the encounters short. Once England had come in him, America would remind England that the children were probably in the yard, waiting to get the go ahead to come back inside (they only stayed out there because the alternative was overhearing America and England). England would trail kisses over America's sweaty shoulders, tongue rough on America's skin as England tasted the salt, and he would skim his fingers over America's stomach, unable to believe how quickly the colony had healed from having New Jersey. England's teasing usually got him another go with America, before the guilt got to be too much and America would be shoving England off him, getting his clothes back on, and going out to look for his children.  
  
"So did he tell you _why_ he changed New York's name to that? When he did it?"  
  
When who...? Oh. England changing New York's name. That was what they'd last been talking about, before America got sidetracked thinking of all the hot sex he and England used to have.  
  
"I'm not sure if I was there when he did that. Maybe I heard about it later."  
  
"How can you forget someone else changing your kid's name?" Canada was sitting at the kitchen table, feeding Hawaii.  
  
America was trying to give Alaska dry cereal, but Alaska looked more willing to go back to sleep. He scattered Cheerios across the tray of his high chair with one tiny fist, then yawned, blinking tiredly.  
  
"There was a lot going on..." America said vaguely.  
  
"Like what? He's not New York's father! Why was it okay for him to do that? Did you have no choice?"  
  
"It came up in an argument. Everyone was at England's throat, I think the kids blamed him for North Carolina."  
  
Canada said nothing, thinking this over. He didn't know the history behind every state of his brother's, but some stood out more than others, and he'd earlier made the connection between England and Netherlands fighting over trade rights and land, when England came back to America. The question he ended up asking was not one America saw coming. "England would have known about the first territory of Carolina being official. Did he tell _you_? Or did he just try to make sure he was the father of the next baby you'd be having, because there was one more place?"  
  
It perfectly explained his month-long lust frenzy at the time. Too bad he hadn't known there was a reason. "I didn't find out till later." The government set up of the Province of Carolina had been complicated, and America had problems before North Carolina was born, and then after she was, there was always something wrong with the poor child.  
  
***  
  
The end came suddenly. One day, England had ordered the children outside as usual, and instead of anticipating England going at him, America wanted to punch England for even _thinking_ he was going to touch him.  
  
England had gotten used to sex on demand with America. He was not prepared for his colony's random lack of eagerness. "What's wrong? You said the only way you like this is when it's done roughly."  
  
"I don't want to do anything this time." Was he getting sick? He felt achy and his limbs were heavy. Aside from the excessive sex, he wasn't doing anything different.  
  
It was when New Jersey started balking whenever he tried feeding her that America remembered New Netherland--the only other child of his he'd breastfed--had self-weaned when America got pregnant while nursing him.  
  
***  
  
He was expecting a fit from England, over the news, only England didn't throw a fit. "Oh, well, that explains everything, doesn't it?"

And then England was gone again, leaving America to wonder what his statement meant, as the country went from settlement to settlement, visiting the citizens.  
  
The children were outraged and started muttering about not letting England stay over anymore. America worried that they'd go though with this. He wasn't concerned for long--the aching he'd been feeling turned into headaches of the likes of which America had never felt. He spent a lot of time in bed with the covers over his face.  
  
Delaware took over caring for New Jersey. He brought the baby to America when she needed to eat, but the rest of the time, America was alone in his bedroom. New Netherland and Delaware were taking it in turns to guard his door and not let their siblings make any noises in the house that would aggravate their father.  
  
***  
  
At what point Virginia returned, America couldn't recall.  
  
All he knew was one day someone who weighed far less than England had climbed into his bed, going over America and settling behind him, then his oldest child's voice was asking gently, "Where is England? Why isn't he here helping you?" while she pressed her fingers against his temples, so she had to know what was wrong with him, otherwise she'd be asking that first.  
  
Her hands felt soothing. "What are you doing back? You didn't leave because of me, did you?" He knew his daughter liked working in the village, and being with people other than her family. She should have stayed there!  
  
"Don't ask me questions without answering mine! You don't know where he is, do you?"  
  
He didn't want to admit she was right.  
  
Virginia rubbed her face against his back, between his shoulder blades. "I _missed_ you. Don't worry about why I'm back."  
  
"Did something happen?"  
  
"No! Well...not yet. You're going to worry if I don't tell you, aren't you? One of the other maids got married. We were friends, everyone thought she was a year older than me, everyone was going to be wondering if I was still there, the same age, later on. I had to come home. America, it wasn't your doing."  
  
He believed that part, but he did not believe his daughter felt no sorrow over having to end another friendship. His head was pounding, and he would have felt better lying still, but he rolled over and held Virginia tightly, the way he used to when she was just a tiny child and the only one he'd had.  
  
Her fingers clenched his arms as she hid her face against his neck.  
  
***  
  
The truth was, that time period was another huge haze for America. It wasn't going to be the last, either.  
  
His oldest two fretted over him and kept everyone but New Jersey away. America was so nauseous throughout the pregnancy that the only way he could get himself to force down anything was by reminding himself New Jersey was still dependent on him, and if he didn't eat, she couldn't.  
  
Carolina arrived early. America didn't even care. The headaches he had been having were so severe that he couldn't even remember being in pain while delivering her. He felt somewhat better--he could move around again--but his well being seemed exchanged by her being his most difficult baby yet.  
  
She cried _constantly_. America tried holding her, he tried nursing her, he tried wrapping her tightly, and he tried giving her the hottest baths he felt safe giving such a newly born baby, thinking that would comfort her. Nothing did. Carolina howled until she wore herself out, and slept against America fitfully until she was rested enough to start screaming some more. She stressed America out so much that New Netherland actually took pity on him, where usually, he felt zero sympathy for his father unless Virginia lectured him into showing empathy.  
  
"Rub whisky on her gums."  
  
"What?"  
  
New Netherland had to raise his voice to be heard over his newest sister's crying. "Virginia says that calms babies down!"  
  
She'd also thought breastfeeding guaranteed women couldn't get pregnant again, even though she'd seen him prove that one false, well in a sense, so what good was her advice? America stared at his son in horror. Didn't he _think_ before listening to other people? "Yes, I'm sure it works, once they're _drunk_!"

New Netherland sneered. "A few drops in her mouth won't do that much. We have whisky, England buys it. But if you like hearing her shrieking..."  
  
They went into the study, and found the jug England kept. America held Carolina while New Netherland forced her mouth open, patting at her gums with dripping fingers. The baby was confused into silence, then she sputtered, too disgusted to voice her misery. She whimpered, but that was all.  
  
"She actually stopped..." Tears stung America's eyes. He had thought there'd be no way to ever calm Carolina.  
  
"Hey--why are _you_ crying? She's fine!"  
  
America sniffed and blinked rapidly. Carolina snuffled against him. New Netherland, concerned, pushed his father onto a chair and put his arms around him, rubbing the back of America's shoulders. America shook and sniffled, feeling like he really shouldn't be breaking down in front of his own child who looked no older than a decade, but...the past months had been nightmarish.  
  
New Netherland kept rubbing his back. "Shush, shush, shush," he whispered, but it was soothing, not reprimanding.  
  
***  
  
This last incident must have scared his children, because he was never left alone with Carolina, and his children were more affectionate with him than they'd been even when they were babies.  
  
Virginia went into another settlement and asked around, and was told to boil mint leaves and feed the cooled infusion to the baby. This helped. With the baby in fewer frenzies, the older children could hold her more, offering America some peace. He cuddled New Jersey, which calmed him even more, and reveled in the frequent embraces Delaware gave him.  
  
He didn't miss England. He wasn't sure he _wanted_ him gone, though England didn't make himself look good by getting annoyed with Carolina's crying. The children wouldn't let the country sleep with America; Delaware would sit on his father's bed, holding little New Jersey, coaxing her into saying their father's name. Her little cries of, "'mer'ca! 'mer'ca!" melted America's heart, and he'd keep both children with him and Carolina overnight, forcing England to sleep in a guest room.  
  
It was off-putting to the household, to have an adult there inconsistently. England's own children got tired of the country's secrecy, of never knowing whether their father would be there with them or be gone, and if he was gone, for how long that would last.  
  
Virginia tried to keep the peace for America's sake, thinking he'd worry if he knew how much animosity everyone had now toward England. She told her siblings their father was happier having England around. It was easier on him. They pointed out England was gone all the time, and when he wasn't, he was complaining about how the household was ran. Her reasoning failing, Virginia snapped at her brothers and sister to suck it up and shut up.  
  
They offered a compromise. When America wasn't within earshot, they instigated arguments over everything England said. Announcing he'd be off to another settlement, advising one of the children on something--anything he said earned him a fight. Virginia and Maryland were softest with him; they resented how he ignored America, but they saw also that there was real love between England and America, although neither showed it well.  
  
New Netherland started the fewest fights, and still managed to be the most vicious to England. England was frustrated over how to retaliate at a child who wasn't his.  
  
The name change came from their shortest fight ever.  
  
"Why are you even here?" New Netherland challenged. "My father or Delaware's father or Spain or France will come back, and America will see how much better any of them are, and he'll have no use for you. He won't want you anymore. He doesn't want you now. It's just that he's too worried over Carolina to give you the time of day to kick your ass out of here!"  
  
Having avoided the last several arguments New Netherland tried starting, England flew into a rage at this goading from his enemy's child. "Your father was a failure, so it won't be him! Why did America name you after such a useless country? Was that a reminder to me?"  
  
"Yes, it's all about you, England. God. Asshole."

Not remembering New Netherland didn't actually like his other father, England tried the first tactic that came to mind. "I'm changing your name! Netherlands was too much of a failure to keep his own land, the last thing you need is his failure rubbing off on you as well!"  
  
"You're not my father, how can you change my name?" New Netherland was too curious to be offended.  
  
England did not catch on that he wasn't insulting the boy. "You're New York now!"  
  
"What kind of name is that?"  
  
Before England could feel smug, the boy then decided, "New Netherland takes too long to write. You're doing me a _favor_. I'll keep the shorter name." And with his shiny new label, New York sauntered off as if he'd won some huge battle with England.  
  
England was horrified. Hoping to tell America about it before any of the children could, he tried explaining himself, and came up short. "I'm the adult! How could I lose my temper like that?"  
  
The renaming didn't infuriate America. One thing had been for certain: he really was worrying too much over Carolina to be concerned about anyone else. She'd grown from fractious baby to sickly little girl, the latest affliction being headaches. Remembering how bad that had been when he was pregnant with her, America tried to help his youngest, but all he could do was hold her and try to keep the bedroom dark and quiet.  
  
"His name was starting to sound not right," America said carelessly. "I'm sure it was meant to change! You probably didn't even make that up. If you hadn't said anything, he would have come up with the same, or I would have, and given it to him. You didn't actually do anything to him."  
  
Feeling foolish, England groaned. "There's no point fighting with any of them, is there? I can't get anywhere!"  
  
"Too loud," Carolina whimpered.  
  
"Be quiet!" America hissed at England.  
  
Realizing he was in more danger with disturbing their youngest than he was for renaming a child who wasn't his to rename, England took his leave.  
  
***  
  
"New York _wanted_ to piss off England, but he was probably happy, no longer having Netherlands's name."  
  
"That's _it_?" Canada had been hoping for something more dramatic.  
  
"Yeah? What were you expecting? New York was really young! He didn't start with elaborate insults like what he gives you, with the phone tag games, till later! What he did to England worked; how mad would you be if someone took your insult and turned it into you giving them something good?" America then noticed Alaska had flicked most of his cereal onto the floor. "If you weren't going to eat it--" he bent down, picking up the pieces.  
  
"What about North Carolina?"  
  
"She was fine once South Carolina was born and she wasn't the only Carolina. They fought like mad, though, after South Carolina caught up in age a little. I don't know if it was because of how many borders went over that land, or if there were too many people involved, governing. Virginia thought there might have been a weakness because she was the first child England fathered after he'd had all those civil wars."  
  
Canada was confused. "Weren't the governments of _everyone_ a mess, at that time? Even later, there was drama with states, over that sort of thing!"  
  
"I've got fifty states, I can't keep track of _all_ their governments." America finished collecting the Cheerios, and got up to throw them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to use the original name for Cheerios, but my research tells me that was discontinued four years before the time for my fic. Also, I'm sure I've had tea in this fic during times they shouldn't have had it. The part where England comes back after Netherlands's second visit? No matter what words I used, all my results for 1660s candy got me stories about candy canes. So I had to settle with using sweets. Trufax: the women I've known who breastfed and got pregnant while nursing have tales of how their milk got...weird tasting, and their kids no longer wanted to breastfeed. But they still made them.
> 
> North and South Carolina not being twins was supposed to be funny, but it's like the more research I did, the more confusing their history gets, so...no humor there, sorry.
> 
> We almost have all the original thirteen! Thank you for reading this update! ♥


	20. Chapter 20

The slapping of Alaska's tiny hands on the emptied tray of the high chair attracted America's attention, as he sat back down. He reached over, tousling his son's wispy hair. "What do you want? You didn't eat the cereal, I'm not giving you more if you're going to use it to make a mess."  
  
"No," Alaska whined, shoving America's hand off his head.  
  
Tilting Hawaii's bottle slightly, Canada kept silent, when he really wanted to tell his brother to stop keeping Alaska awake, take the poor baby out of that high chair, and put him down someplace proper to sleep. But without a child to distract him, his brother wouldn't be so talkative. Canada lowered his eyes, meeting Hawaii's calm gaze. Six weeks old, and her eyes were brown already--had she been born with that eye color, or had they started out dark gray, before darkening further to brown, like America's children with Mexico? Then Canada remembered not all of those children were brown-eyed. Texas had the exact shade of green eyes that Spain, his grandfather, possessed.  
  
"Stop whining! I'm getting you out of there!"  
  
 _Finally_. Canada watched, relieved, as his brother got up, lifted up Alaska, and sat down again, holding the child. Alaska got less grumpy, being in his father's arms instead of in a high chair.  
  
As if there'd been no interruption, America went back to talking. "Can you believe, with him being the first one to go through a name change, New York was the one who asked me, after I had South Carolina, 'Did you forget you already have a daughter named Carolina?'"  
  
Canada would've asked the same thing. "Uh...really, did he now? Stupid question."  
  
"I _know_! The whole household thought I'd lost my mind!" America went back to mussing Alaska's hair, though the baby didn't mind it this time. "North Carolina just pouted when I told her she was going to be called that, and then she whined, wanting to know why couldn't I give her sister a proper name instead of her having to share her own, so I told New York to make himself useful and explain to his sister that I didn't pick their names, only he thought I just wanted her to shut up, so he told her that."  
  
***  
  
New York never told North Carolina to shut up; America was paraphrasing.  
  
What New York actually said to his sister had been: "Your headaches stopped because of the baby, just think of that and quit bugging America."  
  
It was true that North Carolina hadn't had a single headache since America got pregnant with the latest baby, but her distress had gained her all of America's attention--for years. Losing that, the first Carolina used her new mobility as payback against her father. She'd run off, worrying him, and not come when he called her. America did not know whether his daughter's headaches were gone for good, or if the alleviation was temporary, so he'd go looking for her. This got demanding, as the pregnancy advanced, and all the while, America never wised up.  
  
It seemed perfectly logical to him that his daughter should become extremely spirited, after spending her first years so unwell.  
  
North Carolina _did_ keep in mind that she was doing much better lately.  
  
Taking her brother's orders to heart, she began pestering America all the time, wanting to hold South Carolina. Surprised and happy at how quickly his daughter was adjusting, America gave up his newborn every time North Carolina asked for her. But she had competition--her older siblings were always taking the baby from her. When they did this, North Carolina would retreat to America. Out of pity, America paid her extra attention, to make up to her that she never got to hold her baby sister for long.  
  
One of these times, America had been falling asleep right as his daughter came to him, when they both heard New York--who'd gone with Virginia that day to one of the settlements--yelling at New Jersey. From the kitchen, any shouting reached all the way to America's bedroom.  
  
"We didn't have money to buy your ribbon! It was that or sugar, and why should the rest of us go without because you're vain?" From the clanging that followed, New York had thrown the sugar onto the table, knocking off the stacked pots.  
  
"Delaware was the one who wanted it for me! You didn't get it because you don't like me!"

Virginia took up where New York left off. "New Jersey, we really _didn't_ have the money. You'll have to do with thread, like Maryland and North Carolina."  
  
"You just have a grudge because me and them are prettier than you!"  
  
Reminders of how much plainer she was could always be counted on to goad Virginia out of her responsible older sister role. "Then you won't _need_ any ribbon, will you? That'll save us money! Thank you for your sacrifice."  
  
"Thread?" Confused, America ran a hand over North Carolina's hair, pinching the end of one of her braids. "Have you girls always been using this? Why didn't I ever get you anything pretty for your hair?" The number of girls he had had jumped to five, shouldn't this have come up before now?  
  
"England doesn't leave us any money," New York said, storming into the bedroom. He was holding South Carolina. "We can't afford to buy nice things."  
  
Not wanting to fight about England, America instead focused on why New York had South Carolina--New York disliked babies. "Did you take her away from your sister?"  
  
"No. She gave her to me."  
  
America looked down at North Carolina, waiting for her to explain.  
  
"You haven't noticed?" New York narrowed his eyes in reproach to both his father and his sister. "She asks you, very sweetly, if she can hold her, then she takes her to one of us, pushes her at us, and we have no choice _not_ to take the baby, because if we don't, she'll be dropped to the floor! Then North Carolina goes to you, and you're so flattered with the attention she gives you that you don't think to ask if we took the baby from her, or if she gave the baby to us!"  
  
She'd been playing him all this time? "Is what your brother's saying true?"  
  
North Carolina erupted into giggles. Crawling off the bed, she rushed out of the room, laughing.  
  
"You little brat!" He was too tired to even chase after her to yell at her, so America aimed his frustration at New York. "Was there a reason none of you told me what she was doing?"  
  
"We were taking bets on long she could keep this up. Rhode Island won. He said me or Virginia would blow the whole thing by getting mad at you for not noticing, but I'm not going to tell him he won."  
  
Why couldn't they do something constructive with their free time? "Give me South Carolina."  
  
His son handed the baby over quickly. "Aaaand...while we were at the settlement, we checked to see if there were any letters for the house. One came for England." New York held up a torn envelope.  
  
Thinking that England was going to get annoyed at _him_ for the snooping, not at the children, America sighed. "What does it say?"  
  
Not even taking out the letter, New York nodded at the baby. "It's about her. Something about one of her towns doing better than hoped for, because of the harbor. There's a lot of trade going to the West Indies...I don't know where that is, is it part of India?"  
  
India was a country England had spoken of, but America had never heard West Indies used as any sort of nickname. Instead, America went back to the first part of what New York had told him. "Your sister's a success already! Without even trying!"  
  
"The success would be England. He _knew_ she was going to happen! He didn't warn you!"  
  
"Inconsiderate." America refolded the blanket around his baby. "He knew I was worried about North Carolina! It would have been good to know her health was going to improve, with this one coming along."  
  
New York threw the letter onto America's bed. "Don't you even care that England kept this from you?"  
  
"Not really. Why, do you? South Carolina would have happened either way."  
  
"He _used_ you!"  
  
So why wasn't New York directing his anger at England? "Stop yelling. I was half asleep before you came in."  
  
"Fine. Don't worry about it. Be England's whore all you want."  
  
"Get the hell out of my room!"  
  
His yelling and New York slamming the bedroom door scared the baby. She started crying. So much for getting a nap this afternoon.  
  
***  
  
He'd wanted his brother to keep talking, but now Canada couldn't keep from asking something he'd been wondering. "Okay, every time you've gone into detail on just how horrible your children used to act, you never say anything of stopping them from acting that way. Why is that? You were the parent!"

"I was trying to respect that mentally, they weren't children!" America saw that Alaska had fallen asleep, and lowered his voice, but sounded no less impatient. "There were a lot of limitations to what they could do--to what all of us could do--with none of us visibly being adults. I tried giving them space. I tried giving them privacy. It seemed fine, until I found out they were doing stupid shit to entertain themselves. Then I had to draw the line."  
  
***  
  
At first, America gave his children the same leniency he'd given everyone, when he was too exhausted or just plain busy with the current baby. But then the latest baby grew into a toddler, and then into a child who could keep up with her siblings. When South Carolina was allowed to mix in with the groups America's children formed, when they went out on the property and into the settlements, America felt he shouldn't question any favors and just felt grateful his children were getting along so well, even if South Carolina and North Carolina had to be kept separated lest they get into a slapping and hair pulling skirmish.  
  
Colonial life was full of hazards, and it wasn't remarkable for someone to wander back home with a gash in them, or covered in bruises they hadn't left with. The children were older and more were going out now; maybe they were getting careless, in their little groups, putting too much trust in each other to prevent injuries, when everyone should have first been looking out for themself.  
  
However, when in a single week, three of his sons got sprayed by a skunk, New Hampshire got stung by so many honeybees that it took America four hours to pull all the stingers out, and New York somehow got porcupine quills embedded in his hand, America began thinking it was odd, how his children were having such an increase in accidents.  
  
"I don't know what you were doing," he said disapprovingly, as he used his full weight to hold down New York's arm, while yanking out the quills, "but when I said not to bother animals, I wasn't saying that to hear myself talk!"  
  
"Ow! Fuck!"  
  
"Stop swearing!" America held up another quill, grimacing at its sharpness and length, before laying it on the floor.  
  
All the girls and Delaware were gathered around, watching. New Jersey picked up the quills, balled her hands into fists, and waved them around with the quills between her fingers. "I've got claws! Watch out!" She swiped at both Carolinas. "Rawr!"  
  
South Carolina shrieked, threw her arms around Virginia's legs, and peeked away from her oldest sister to giggle at New Jersey.  
  
North Carolina stood her ground. "I'll kick you."  
  
"Do it!" Maryland said, laughing. "You'll wind up like New York, only you'll have spikes in your foot!"  
  
New York was not amused. "Shut up!"  
  
He wasn't the only one not finding this funny. America did not want to see any of his other children handling the quills. "Put those down before I have to pull them out of you, next."  
  
"Like I'd be that dumb," New Jersey taunted, but she dropped the quills. She caught New York glaring at her. Walking over to Delaware, New Jersey hugged him, all the while sticking her tongue out at New York, who couldn't do anything because America was still trying to get the quills out of his hand.  
  
***  
  
The next day, New York piggyback carried Rhode Island into the house. There was a lot of whispering between him and half his siblings, giving America the idea his children had again been up to something they shouldn't have.  
  
"What happened to Rhode Island?"  
  
He'd snuck up on them. New York swore, both Carolinas looked nervous, and the rest of the children had incredibly guilty expressions, except Rhode Island, who looked completely uninterested.  
  
"You said he was out back!" New York hissed at Maryland.  
  
"I'm not out there now, so stop blaming your sister and tell me what happened to your brother. Why are you carrying him?"  
  
South Carolina saw that none of her siblings were speaking, so she offered an answer. "He got bitten by a snake!"  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"Why?" She looked at New York, hurt.  
  
Delaware put his arms around South Carolina; New Jersey patted her sister's hair, and frowned at New York. "Don't yell at her, she's little, she doesn't know any better."

America kneeled by his youngest. "South Carolina, were you there when Rhode Island got bitten?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Did he do something to the snake, to make it bite him?"  
  
"He and New York were kicking it around, then he picked it up when New Jersey dared him to!"  
  
Unbelievably, Delaware made a noise that wasn't quite a cough and wasn't quite a snort.  
  
"This is not funny!" Turning to New Jersey, America said, "Why would you dare him to do something like that? Did you even know what kind of snake it was?"  
  
"It was a rattlesnake."  
  
"He's not going to die from it," Delaware said easily.  
  
America faced his oldest son. "You were kicking around venomous snakes with your brothers and sisters?"  
  
New York looked away. "Just one snake."  
  
Rhode Island finally showed some sign of life. "My legs are really numb."  
  
America was too angry to think straight. "Everyone, in your rooms, _now_. If you're not upstairs in fifteen seconds, I will smack each and every one of you up those stairs and into your rooms. Sit on your beds until I say you can come out. _And no talking_."  
  
He could not remember the last time everyone had listened to him like this.  
  
***  
  
The punishment his children wound up with was that none of them were allowed to leave his sight, without his permission. Not even Virginia, who had been in on plenty of the activities.  
  
"Everyone was _bored_ , and none of those things were going to kill anyone," she insisted.  
  
"And you know this how?"  
  
Of course she had no way of proving that. As it hit her just how furious she and her siblings had made their father, Virginia lowered her eyes, till America snapped at her to join her siblings.  
  
He spent a lot of time yelling at everyone. America had never fully recognized how much resentment he had toward his children, for their ingratitude. He'd failed a lot, but he'd _tried_ , and he could have _kept_ treating them like children! For them to act this recklessly and endanger each other felt like the ultimate insult to him, the parent who'd brought them into the world, when the majority of the time, America had been acting in their best interest.  
  
"If I'd had to be stuck with children who don't age, I sure wish you all could be a lot smaller. You were so much easier to deal with as babies and toddlers." Bitterly, he thought if England ever showed his ass here again, he should demand another child from him. Maybe he could finally raise one of them right.  
  
The children snuck apprehensive glances at each other, disconcerted over their father's statements. It wasn't clear to any of them how they were to learn from this, by being bored of their minds, though no one was willing to ask their father, who was enraged to a frightening degree.  
  
Putting the fear of God into them, making them wonder what he _might_ do, had greater impression than anything America had previously tried, and after three days of this, he was about to stop punishing everyone, when the family got a visitor.  
  
"What is this, a school? England didn't say he had his colonies teaching!"  
  
America had been yelling at his kids some more, between hanging up clothing to dry. He had no idea who this man was, and he was sure he'd have remembered if he'd seen him before--he was certainly the strangest person America had ever seen. White hair--he wasn't old--and red eyes. Was something wrong with him? "Who the fuck are you?"  
  
"Some mouth on you! You speak to England that way?" The man surveyed all the children sitting on the ground. They were between ages four and twelve, all blond with blue or green eyes, aside from New York and New Jersey, who had sandy hair and amber eyes. Whoever this man was, he was watching the children as if they were the funniest things he'd ever seen.  
  
"What are all you doing out here? And sitting on the ground?"  
  
They stared at him, as confused as America. North Carolina spoke up. "We're being punished."  
  
"Tiny kids like you? Hah! What'd you do?"  
  
"Me'n'my older brother were kicking around a snake and it bit me and my legs went all numb." Rhode Island eyed the stranger warily. "And we did a lot of dangerous stuff before that. America was upset when he found out."  
  
America grabbed the man by the back of the shoulder. "I asked who you are!"

The man frowned. "You've got a grip. I'm Prussia, hasn't England told you about me?"  
  
"No."  
  
Prussia looked displeased. "That bastard! Did he leave you alone with these kids? Who's supposed to protect all you?"  
  
New York sneered. "We don't need anyone protecting us."  
  
"Hah! Kid, you're not too bright! Don't you know what's going on? Hmm, if England's not here, maybe I should wait till he gets back, make sure nothing happens to you."  
  
He had some nerve...! "We don't need a babysitter." America tightened his hand over Prussia's shoulder. The man was shorter than him, and did not seem particularly strong, though he was definitely wiry. America could have easily taken him out.  
  
Trying not to show any unease at America's display of strength, Prussia blustered on, "Of course you do! Do you even know what's around this house?"  
  
"More rattlesnakes?" Delaware suggested.  
  
"Everyone inside!" America yelled. "And you," he told Prussia. "Get the hell out of here. I don't know what you need with England, but I haven't seen him, I don't know where he is, so just leave."  
  
Prussia tried following him. "I was serious, who's protecting you? All you look pretty young and--"  
  
America turned around, grabbed Prussia by one arm, and tossed him into the stream. Then he joined his children in the house.  
  
***  
  
Unfortunately, America was stuck with Prussia, for the night, after doing that--it _was_ his fault the country was stuck in the middle of no where, with wet clothing.  
  
It could have been worse. Prussia found the children cute, and was too busy telling them exaggerated stories about defeating other countries to ask very many questions. And America gave Prussia the whisky England kept, making the country so inebriated that America was eventually able to push him onto his own bed and forget about him.  
  
Until _he_ wanted to sleep. "Move over," he demanded, shaking Prussia. "You can't take up all the bed."  
  
The country mumbled something in his own language.  
  
America scowled--then started patting Prussia's hair. He'd never seen anyone so young with white hair. "Hey. Hey!" So long as he had an adult in his bed...  
  
"Kid, what?" Man, Prussia had pretty eyes. They were creepy, but at the same time, pretty.  
  
"There's a price for staying here."  
  
"I told you, I'm _protecting_ you."  
  
America snorted. "Adult companionship would serve me better."  
  
Prussia gave off a sleepy little laugh, sounding...oddly adorable.  
  
If he got nothing other than his own hand tonight, America was going to kick Prussia's ass in the morning. He pulled off his nightshirt and started grinding against the country, who did not take long to decide that sex might not be a bad idea.  
  
Only it was terrible. Prussia was so drunk, America was amazed he could get it up at all, and the colony actually lost interest entirely, in the time Prussia spent humping his ass. He only let Prussia fuck him because so much effort had been involved.  
  
***  
  
"The next morning, Prussia had a hangover and didn't even remember us doing anything."


	21. Chapter 21

Styling himself as a gentlemen handed other countries extra liberties with which to inconvenience England. For some, imposing visitation and forcing the empire into providing hospitality--with all that was going on in the New World and back at home--was a more satisfying retribution than outright fighting England.  
  
"France has gone home, Spain is with his colonies trying to fix disputes. Who does America have to visit?" Netherlands was not drinking the tea England had poured, and England was sure it was because the country wanted to be wasteful with luxuries he wasn't footing the bill for.  
  
If only there was some way he could use old tea leaves for Netherlands's visits, without tainting what he himself drank. "He and Canada meet with each other."  
  
"Can't be often. America's got no one, then, only those brats." Netherlands had a routine to his visits with England. He brought up every calamity that befell England's citizens. He pointed out how scattered England's visits to the New World were. He compared England's appearance and cooking skills to those of other countries, with the dark predictions that one of these days, America would run away from England to be with someone more worthy.  
  
France dropped in whenever he wanted, whether he and England were technically enemies or friends, and Spain ignored politics to parade around his daughters (he never brought around his sons), dressed too formally for the New World terrain, and showing off what languages and instruments they'd learned (something Spain knew England couldn't match, because England ordered his colonies to learn things then left them to sink or swim. He put in little effort of personally teaching them). Other countries simply arrived because they were in the New World and were aware England had better living quarters than what their own citizens possessed.  
  
"If America was smart, he'd clear out and go to Canada or one of Spain's kids. Spain's an idiot, but he's got a lot of daughters. Be a lot better, getting to be around pretty girls."  
  
There was nothing to do but let Netherlands talk like this; if Netherlands got bored with irritating England, he'd go looking for America. There was another province developing, while too much was happening to allow for visits. Netherlands had people here in the New World and more immigrating to it. As things stood, circumstances were more favorable to him than to England, in who would be fathering the next child America should be having. The boy had demonstrated enough times that just because the land was England's didn't mean the children had to be.  
  
"America loves those children. He wouldn't part with them willingly."  
  
"Wouldn't he?" Netherlands set down his tea cup and stretched. "Seems to me he has no choice but to care for them. If I was in his boots, I'd've drowned them all at birth."  
  
"Go back and drown the ones that are yours, then!"  
  
"Nah. Better to have America harboring them at your expense. Sweden and I were shrewder than you."  
  
Netherlands saw himself out, and England let loose all the profanity he'd been bottling.  
  
Kicking Netherland's arse anytime he felt like it wasn't permissible anymore, as Netherlands and England were no longer at war, and France's war against Netherlands, which England had helped in, was also over. The land was England's, so the children representing it should have been his as well, and yet, three of them weren't. Too much to oversee or not, England had to get going and beat Netherlands to America before America was caring for a fourth mistake.  
  
***  
  
Heading out during the middle of the day made it not quite morning when England got to the house. Terrible timing; no one would be up, and if he woke anyone, the children would use the hour as excuse to attack England, even if they immediately recognized him to be the "intruder." This in mind, England went to the kitchen first, drawn by the orange glow of the dying down fire. He'd let his eyes accustom to the darkness, before as silently as was possible sneaking into America's bedroom. Hopefully none of the children were sleeping with the boy.  
  
In the kitchen, however, sat America. He was as surprised to see England as England was thrown off that his colony was still up.

"Oh, England, hi! I wasn't expecting you!" America didn't get up; he was sewing, and the ripped sleeve of the dress he was mending looked like it required enormous concentration from him. The dress was too little to be Virginia's and not little enough to belong to either of the Carolinas.  
  
The length of the skirt to that little dress was too long for it to be one of Maryland's. Why did the fabric look _nicer_ than anything England had seen his daughters wearing? Was America playing favorites, giving New Jersey nicer things than the other girls? "Did you even go to bed?"  
  
"I couldn't sleep." America knotted the thread. He failed to get the knot close enough to the fabric, and fumbled over it three times before securing it. "I didn't want New Jersey fixing the seam work on this, Delaware earned the fabric for her and it was expensive, but it's only the sleeve and that took me all night to get done. I kept having to pull out stitches." Laying the dress down on the table, America squared his shoulders, wincing and moving one hand to his stomach, scratching it.  
  
England had seen America do this many times--when America had been pregnant. At the point that his stomach muscles finally gave out, letting his stomach protrude with the growing child, his skin stretched tautly--making America constantly sore and itchy--from the adjusting to his body.  
  
"Was Netherlands here?"  
  
America, noticing now that England's arrival was less than friendly, frowned. "No. Why would he be?"  
  
"Who _was_ here? France?" It was feasible that he'd managed a trip without England knowing. "That asshole! He mocks me to my face _and_ behind my back?"  
  
"You're babbling. France hasn't been here." America's hands were palms down on the bench. The weight gain must have been enough that his sense of balance was starting to get compromised.  
  
England closed in on America, not letting him get up. "Then who--? You're pregnant, aren't you?"  
  
"So?" America's eyes averted from his guardian. "You won't be taking care of it, what's it to you if I am?"  
  
England gripped America by both shoulders. "You're _mine_. Any children you have should be mine. Exactly what were you thinking, doing this?"  
  
America, refusing to look at England, was resentful, not apologetic. "You're never around. What does it matter? We provide for ourselves, what difference does a few more make, when they'll just help out and pull their own weight? It's taking nothing from you!"  
  
Forcing America to face upward, England meant to give the colony a tongue lashing never to be forgotten, but even sulking, America looked endearingly innocent. England couldn't stay angry at him. Loosening his grip, he kneaded the boy's shoulders. "I'll admit, Delaware's useful, and New Jersey isn't quite so irritating as her brother"--she and Delaware had the good sense to clear off, most of the time when England was there--"but what you live on is _English_ property. Does it make sense to you, having Dutch or Swedish children for that land? _Or_ French?"  
  
America leaned into England, pressing his face against the country's stomach. "It won't be French."  
  
"No?" England rubbed America's shoulders, thinking it over. Spain? The timing would be difficult. Maybe Sweden had come back...? But to learn of Delaware, then take off a second time? No, it had to be someone else.  
  
What if it was Canada's?  
  
This shouldn't have bothered England so much. Canada and America weren't human, and it was no better or worse, them being intimate, than it was for America and England. Better yet, Canada was a colony also, so he couldn't cause England trouble, making demands over any brats he fathered on his little brother. Still, it was strange. Canada had always been such a trustworthy boy. And he being the father didn't change the fact this was one more baby that wouldn't be England's.  
  
So England led America up to the bedroom, to fuck his colony and remind America of his place. It was a punishment, but the fact of this flew over America's head.  
  
Which was England's fault.

After shoving America at the bed and going at the colony's ass with a handful of lamp oil, England caught sight of America clawing at the bedsheets. Guiltily thinking he should be more careful--what had gotten into him, throwing the boy stomach-first at the edge of the bed?--England slowed down his fingering, wedging his other hand between the mattress and America's belly. How far along was he? With his clothes on and his shirt untucked, America didn't rouse much suspicion, but touching him, his stomach felt enormous. Before England could continue his train of thought, America pushed back against England's fingers. An indication of discomfort? Perhaps there was too much pressure on his abdomen. Then America arched backward again, and England realized he wasn't trying to reposition himself or get England off, America was trying to get England to start back up what the country had thought was too rough for America, given America's current state.  
  
"Go back to what you were doing! Why did you stop? You were actually doing it good for a change!"  
  
England didn't hurry. "Why are _you_ giving orders?"  
  
"Alright, you're in charge. Even though you need me."  
  
"You are _not_ my only option for sex!" Where had this sudden disrespect come from?  
  
America laughed. "What else is there, besides your own hand? It's that or my ass, I doubt your hand's going to be preferable!"  
  
England stopped wiggling his fingers in America's ass, and pulled them out, which silenced the colony's laughter. "Since you want to be fucked so badly, how about I find out how fucking your mouth would feel?"  
  
"No way! I don't want that thing in my mouth!"  
  
He'd poured out too much oil; it was dripping down his own wrist. Good God, between what was on him and what was dripping out of America, this was going to leave a hell of a mess afterward. Well, better off _using_ that excess. Without warning, England forced three fingers at once back into America.  
  
"Yes, that. Do that," America gasped, lying over the bed like he was trying to burrow into the mattress.  
  
Turned on by America's approval, England worked in a fourth finger.  
  
They both were sweating. England couldn't tell from America's squirming what the boy was doing harder, pounding back against England's hand or humping the mattress. It was partly hot, and partly annoying--England was trying to splay his fingers, which was borderline impossible in such narrowness. It would be just like America to find a way to break fingers with his arse. England circled one arm around America, hoping to hold him still, the oil making him slide down over America's distended stomach. The skin was stretched tightly and heated more so than America usually got, from sex alone. Stupid baby. It should have been England's. His hand glided easily over the mound it made, and because England did not want to think about the kid, nor could he rub his hard on at America's ass while his fingers were shoving in and out of him, England stopped finger-fucking America to stick his cock into the colony.  
  
America just grunted at every thrust, taking it. Had he come without England noticing? A limp, sated America wasn't as fulfilling as when America had been flailing under him, nevertheless, England went at the boy till he was spilling into him, shuddering long and hard throughout the orgasm, then lying on America afterward. He breathed quietly as he inhaled the faint saltiness of sweat on America's skin.  
  
America, while England had been appeasing carnal needs, found a second wind. "Hey, England!"  
  
How the hell did the boy sound so cheerfully energetic, after that? He probably wanted to be off his stomach and lying on the bed, not bent over it. "I'm getting off you, shut up and give me a moment." If America had been fine through the sex, he'd be fine holding out a little longer.  
  
America flopped onto the bed the instant England allowed it. "I was going to say, the last time I did this, it was like having my butt slapped by a fish!"  
  
"For fuck's sake, America!" If he wasn't so miffed that America had gotten knocked up by another country, he would have asked about that. It sounded...peculiar. In a bad way.

As the colony stretched, his stomach brushed at England's side. Sudden fluttering startled England. He hadn't felt anything from the child earlier. Again, he wondered how far along America was. That shifting was not early pregnancy activity.  
  
They used the soiled sheet to wipe at the mess on themselves. England watched as America stroked his stomach, trying to calm the baby, and the country felt uneasy. Things hadn't exactly worked out as punishing America.  
  
***  
  
Neither of them slept much.  
  
America floundered in bed, nearly rolling onto England several times, and kept pressing his rock hard belly against England's back so the baby was kicking England in the spine. England lost count of how many times he was awoken. When he snapped at America to lie still, America sullenly pointed out if England wasn't there, he'd have both pillows, and could sleep comfortably. England protested that this made no sense, but America spontaneously left the bed, saying something about ashes maybe being on the kitchen floor and if the children woke up, they'd track right through and make a mess in the kitchen.  
  
He didn't come back, and England finally slept for the remaining few hours, until noise from the kitchen woke him again.  
  
Not one of the children complained at England being back. He had no idea what brought this silence, but he wasn't about to object. Virginia and Maryland clung to him.  
  
"Tell America we don't need him to brush our hair!" Maryland hugged England, trying to get on her other father's good side.  
  
" _And_ he scrubbed our faces." Virginia practically huffed this in exasperation.  
  
America was sitting at the table with North Carolina in his lap, yanking a brush through her hair. She had on only a shift. Why wasn't the girl dressed? Her limbs looked so long that England wondered if the child would ever grow into them. She winced at the brush strokes. "I've been brushing my hair on my own for years, why is it now not alright, how I do it?"  
  
Seated by them, also clad in nothing more than a shift, South Carolina laughed mockingly.  
  
North Carolina kicked at her, knocking her little sister off the bench.  
  
America gave his youngest daughter a warning glare as she stood up, then America bopped North Carolina over the head with the brush. "You're doing a good job convincing me to go all out and braid your hair after I'm done brushing it." She scowled and held still.  
  
One of the older boys brought a bowl of something steaming to England. "We made porridge with the stew meat from last night, it's really good!" For the life of him, England could not remember if this child was Massachusetts or New Hampshire.  
  
"Everyone go outside and let England eat in peace." America patted North Carolina's hair. "You and your sister make sure to get dressed before going out."  
  
Long sufferingly, North Carolina replied, "We'd be dressed now if you hadn't yelled at us to come downstairs."  
  
"Why are you doing all this anyway?" England was more confused why the children were putting up with it. It couldn't have been because their parent was pregnant. "You're the one always saying they're not children."  
  
Virginia was lingering behind her younger siblings. "He won't stop babying us!"  
  
"Go ahead and explain why that is, to England."  
  
She opted to go outside with her brothers and sisters. England hadn't wanted to know what the children had done. It must have been bad, if America was furious with every single one of them _and_ they were scared into docility.  
  
***  
  
Somehow, America kept running the show.  
  
He wanted intimacy constantly, the sex was fantastic, and England was put in such a good mood by his colony's passion that England reasoned he could take a lighter work load, just this once. Who knew when he'd have such peace with America again? Sex with the boy, the kids not hounding him. The house was nearly a haven to return to, after England was out and about in the surrounding settlements.  
  
Even the unborn baby wasn't as obnoxious as it could have been. England found in bed that when he wrapped his arms around America and rubbed the colony's belly, he could soothe the baby into letting everyone sleep.  
  
***  
  
It all unraveled, of course.

England got held up in one of the villages for four days, and in that time, not only was little Pennsylvania born, New York, Delaware, and New Jersey had moved into America's bed, to "protect" their parent and new sister. England didn't fight America's children. He hadn't been planning on fucking America after the colony delivered, and with beds opened up, England could claim one and have a whole bed to himself for a change. There were so few beds that the children doubled and tripled up, giving England no opportunities to take a bed from them.  
  
He had no interest in Pennsylvania, but found it odd that weeks after she was born, he had never actually seen the baby and America wouldn't let the other children hold her.  
  
The colony seemed to be all the time nervous and agitated. "Why do babies even have fingernails? They shouldn't be born with them, they should grow them after they can figure out not to scratch their faces!" Anxiously, he prodded at one of Pennsylvania's tiny hands; she clutched his index finger. "I hate cutting nails on babies!"  
  
"You hate cutting nails on anyone, including yourself." New York wasn't fazed by his father's fretting. "You could tie rags around her hands."  
  
Delaware and New Jersey found fabric scraps, and wrapped them around their baby sister's hands. The idea worked, but Pennsylvania didn't like it at all. She started screaming her little head off. America comforted her without success.  
  
He looked so stressed that England felt bad for him. "Let me see her."  
  
America held the baby closer. "No, she'll stop, I don't need your help."  
  
The younger two children glared at England. Oddly, New York was smirking.  
  
Annoyed, England grabbed the baby from America.  
  
Another blond baby. Only...Pennsylvania's hair was too light. Scratch that, it wasn't blond, it wasn't even white blond, it was _white_. England was holding her more loosely than what was appropriate, and Pennsylvania, not understanding why she'd been transferred to another person, quieted somewhat, opening her eyes. At the sight of them, England stopped thinking about the baby's hair, because he was positive Pennsylvania's eyes were bleeding. "What happened to her eyes?!"  
  
Pennsylvania shut the eyes being spoken of and squalled.  
  
"What do you mean?" Alarmed, America hovered over the baby. The children crowded around England, worried about their sister.  
  
"There's nothing wrong with her eyes." Delaware was irritated at the false alarm. "What are you talking about?" It was the most emotion England had seen from the child.  
  
England let America take the baby back. "They're _bleeding_."  
  
New York sneered, Delaware glared, and New Jersey snorted. "Bleeding!" She laughed lightly and disdainfully. "They're _red_. They're naturally that color."  
  
"Red eyes and white hair." The only person he knew having both those oddities came to mind. "That _fucking_ asshole!"  
  
" _Now_ you're gonna get mad about who fathered her?" America impatiently turned away from England. He cooed at the baby and rocked her gently. Her cries turned to whimpering.  
  
Not knowing who to be angrier at, England settled for the person with him. " _You whore_!"  
  
This angered the three children (and scared the baby) but America faced England, gazing at him dispassionately, like the country's outrage was just an act that might or might not be entertaining to watch the whole way through. "Funny thing, that...you were happy enough when I was being a whore for _you_."  
  
***  
  
He left. Leaving the way he did cost England highly. It was forty years before he was welcomed back in America's bed, and even that was only because of England being in the right place at the right time when Georgia was declared official.  
  
***  
  
Knowing what Canada was going to ask, America kept talking, not caring how bothered his twin was by an insult from England long past. "Things got kind of blurry after that. I think maybe it was because I wasn't used to the diversity of the people yet, in my portion of North America. That took a long time to figure out how to handle! Do you know how much work goes into knowing what to ignore?"  
  
"But...England...if...Georgia was born in seventeen whatever--"  
  
"1733!"  
  
"1733, okay, and you declared independence in..."  
  
"1776!"

"...right, okay, but...you just...did nothing, in that time? How did you get from accepting England expecting you to be a whore, to fighting him and getting free of him?"  
  
America condescendingly smiled an oh-my-god-why-are-you-so-dumb smile. "Um...you know thirteen kids are non-stop work? In a time when Walmart didn't exist? Pennsylvania had to be hidden constantly, because she didn't look right! Netherlands visited me when France and England were fighting more of their same old, same old, and...well, Netherlands hadn't known I wasn't getting help from the people. I didn't know I was supposed to be getting it, England never said anything. Netherlands told the right people who I was, who the kids were, they found civilians to be bodyguards for Pennsylvania--not that she needed them, she and Delaware and New Jersey were inseparable!--and the kids had other places they could go, so we weren't all in each other's ways, getting on each other's nerves. I agreed with it because of Pennsylvania, and then Prussia came back, wanting to teach me to fight, and that sweetened the deal. It was _awesome_! He totally wasn't expecting me to keep up. You should have seen how shocked he was, at me being stoked with training. The thing was, doing that was way easier than putting up with those kids!"  
  
Canada relaxed, believing the situation had considerably improved. It had, in many ways. "So you had help finally. Prussia felt remorseful at not being around for his daughter, so he helped you."  
  
"He helped me, but not because of Pennsylvania. He thought, when he met her, that she was his because of influence. Prussia didn't know Pennsylvania had been born. He thought she just appeared, like everyone else."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more about England. In spite of how it looks, I am going to end this story. Thanks for reading. ♥


	22. Chapter 22

Whoever was approaching the pond was not one of Rhode Island's brothers or sisters, having followed him--one of his siblings would have called something while nearing, and if they were creeping up on Rhode Island for a joke, they'd be quieter. They knew how to move about without being heard.  
  
So did this stranger. There was a heavy deliberation in their footsteps that meant to warn Rhode Island that they were coming.  
  
He didn't turn around. Element of surprise was a rare feeling, and Rhode Island was liking experiencing it.  
  
A man settled beside Rhode Island. He was dressed similar to every trapper Rhode Island had ever seen, though this stranger's coloring was much darker. Saying nothing and not looking at Rhode Island, in spite of the closeness, the man stared across the pond, as if this was a meeting Rhode Island had arranged and now the man was waiting to know why. The presence projected off the man--which would have attracted Rhode Island if he and the man had been passing each other, not sitting side by side--was similar to what the countries had.  
  
He wondered why the man wouldn't look at him. "You're one of the original citizens."  
  
"You're one of the children living with that boy. The one who's been here several human lifetimes, without aging to a man."  
  
Well, that told Rhode Island a lot, even if the man was implying dislike. Rhode Island had never encountered any of the people here before America. No one in the household had. England said the ones here first were Godless savages who ate people so the children and America shouldn't go looking for them, and if any of them saw one, they should run away. Virginia and New York said the people here first just didn't like strangers, and they were kind enough to leave the household alone, so the household owed them the same consideration. "He's my father."  
  
"Why is he letting those countries into his home?"  
  
"He _can't_ just tell England to go away, England owns the house." It would have been better if America _did_ discourage England from coming back, after that whore insult. America hadn't been sleeping in the same bed with England, and he'd been withholding affection--till he'd gotten bored on one of England's visits, let England into the bedroom, and months later, Rhode Island and his brothers and sisters had another little sister. America was still petty with England, responding to the country with airy "Go to hell!"s that escaped England's awareness because of the cheeriness, and only grated on the nerves of the children. They wanted England _gone_ , not here and being insulted. "The others...I guess he just likes having people around who aren't children."  
  
A heavy silence fell, disapproving or pitying. Both? Rhode Island felt self-conscious; his answer had been wrong, somehow, he felt, and he did not know how, only that if he'd answered differently, this man would stop facing away from him, look Rhode Island in the eyes, and offer information instead of asking questions. He wished he didn't look so young. Delaware was younger than Rhode Island, and almost caught up to New York, the oldest boy, and New Jersey and North Carolina, the only girls to inherit height, were both younger than Rhode Island without looking it.  
  
"England and the brown-haired one have madness in their eyes. Watch out for them both." Without glancing once at Rhode Island this whole time, the man got up and left.  
  
***  
  
Why was _France_ not a threat?  
  
Warnings were given by England to let no one (especially France) into the house. America invited in anyone who took the time to find the property. This was most often done by France, who was obsessed with trying to turn America off England. In fact, the reason Rhode Island was hiding out in the woods was because France was paying another social call, and unlike his siblings, Rhode Island wasn't so amused by the country.  
  
It was true that France was affectionate to America without being sexual. France treated America like a child. Seeing this was a relief to America's children, who heard nothing but bad things about France from other countries, and knew their father's flightiness caused him to act unwisely far too often for comfort.

England was an asshole with a compulsive need to keep America pregnant, and Spain once or twice had shown up with bribes, always having an air of you'd-have-it-better-with-me-and-not-England, on his visits to America. He brought food the household had never seen and couldn't get in the settlements, and he went on at length about how pretty his daughters were, and how they were closer in age to America, so shouldn't America be thinking of being around _them_ and not these urchins England kept bringing to the house?  
  
By contrast, France was just oblivious. He gave little thought to the children America kept, other than to cook them sweets to shut them up and let him insult England to America (something that didn't call for payoff to overlook, but custard tarts were the equivalent of catnip to the children, so they let France think the bribes were necessary).  
  
The sky was vivid blue as Rhode Island looked up, through the tree leaves. His hands stretched across the ground, and something cool and oddly shaped touched his fingers.  
  
***  
  
Neither France nor America looked to be leaving the kitchen any time soon, and they weren't even discussing anything interesting. Georgia was tired of sitting on the staircase. Was this a set up so the older siblings could talk about "adult" things without her in the way, making them feel guilty for being bad influences? They should have been the first ones to remember she wasn't a child, with most of them looking like children also!  
  
Then she heard her father's voice, sounding flustered. "Where were you? I didn't know you were gone! Are you hungry? There's stew, get some and go upstairs."  
  
Who had been out...? Oh, right, Rhode Island was gone all day. He didn't really like France, Georgia kept forgetting. Virginia didn't either, because France was always insulting England, and Georgia herself didn't like how freely France expressed disapproval, but it would have cost a fortune to buy the things he could cook, so no one complained.  
  
And there went France again. He was as bad as England, with criticizing everything. "Running wild. I am telling you as a big brother, America, England only drags in these strays so you will be too busy to know how badly he treats you." It was a bold thing to say, when he'd visited several times without once noticing the children were never different ones, there were only more. "Who is this one?"  
  
"Russell."  
  
That wasn't the human name Rhode Island used. Georgia hoped France wouldn't notice.  
  
"I thought one of the others had called him Roderick? I am sure it started with an r and an o."  
  
Damn, he had. Why couldn't America be more careful with these details?  
  
"Rodney, then. I was close." He wasn't even _concerned_ over his mess up!  
  
"I'm Rocco," Rhode Island corrected.  
  
America responded with exactly what Georgia was thinking--"That's not even a real name!"--and then some: "Quit trying to make me look bad!"  
  
France sighed, tragically. "Really, America--I will be having a word with England, his whims are getting out of hand."  
  
Rhode Island laughed and left the kitchen. He was examining something in his hand, and jumped when he met Georgia on the stairs. Thinking she was eavesdropping, he said nothing to give away her position.  
  
"I was watching to see if they were ever going to leave the kitchen." The hell with this, it was too cold to be sitting here in her nightgown. She got up and they both went up to the big room where all the siblings slept.  
  
Everyone was upstairs, sitting or lying on the beds, bored out of their minds. They tried acting like children whenever there was company, but none of them needed to go to bed that early.  
  
"Are they still down there?" New York asked.

"They're not leaving." Georgia went to the bed that Delaware, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania were sitting on. They were sharing a custard tart. It was Pennsylvania's, strictly speaking, because every time a visitor was at the house, Pennsylvania was confined to the bedroom, so America slipped her the better food, then was more attentive to her than the other children, in the days after whoever was visiting left. Pennsylvania's hair could be hidden with a cap, but there was no way of hiding those strange red eyes, without drawing more attention in the attempt. She didn't have to share anything, and Delaware and New Jersey would have been fine with letting their sister have the tart to herself, but Pennsylvania _wanted_ to share with them. The three had a closeness the other siblings lacked, and the others had been disappointed that Pennsylvania didn't grow up to act just like Prussia, which Pennsylvania was aware of and resented. Why should she be like some man she'd never met?  
  
Breaking off a bit of crust, New Jersey hand-fed it to Georgia. "Don't worry, all you missed was everyone agreeing that France probably isn't fucking America."  
  
"Old news."  
  
A few feet away, Virginia stopped brushing her hair. "Don't talk with food in your mouth." She was on the same bed as Maryland. Usually, Georgia slept with them, and North Carolina crowded with New York, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire, leaving Rhode Island, Connecticut, and South Carolina all on the same bed. America didn't like them sharing beds in boy-girl combination, however, there were more girls now than boys, and someone was always fighting with someone else. Dividing up how the brothers and sisters did was the only way to keep the peace.  
  
Georgia opened her mouth widely so her oldest sister could see chewed up pie crust, but Virginia had gone back to brushing her hair, so Georgia just chewed and swallowed, and stayed on the bed, since her half-siblings kept giving her more tart. She saw Rhode Island studying the object he'd been looking at earlier. It was circular, and looked beaded. She wondered where it had come from.  
  
***  
  
There must have been more than petty griping involved in what France and England were saying about each other to America, because the two countries were fighting again.  
  
"How is this any different from what they're normally doing?" Pennsylvania read the papers brought back to the house, and her brothers and sisters told her whatever they'd heard in the settlements, but none of it made very much sense. She didn't leave the house much; quite aside from her appearance making this imprudent, sunlight hurt her eyes.  
  
"This is a real fight." Virginia was waiting on New York to tell her what the newspaper America had brought back said. "France has the citizens who were here first helping him."  
  
"I think France has them doing the fighting _for_ him..." New York grew increasingly confused, as he read through the paper, not getting any answers out of it. "This contradicts the other paper we got! Where the hell is the fighting happening?"  
  
New Jersey tried peeking around New York's shoulder, to get a look at the paper. "France wouldn't have them go after _us_ , would he?"  
  
"I would, if I were one of them." Massachusetts looked out the window, avoiding his siblings. "You know, all these people, taking my place? I'd be getting revenge on everyone, if I could find the chance."  
  
This worried the siblings. All the worst outcomes looked plausible, with the lack of information they had. Their father didn't know what was true, and worse, he gave different answers, depending on his mood. All the conflict was disorienting him.  
  
Delaware put an arm around Pennsylvania, and pulled New Jersey close. "France wants to be on America's good side, doesn't he? He's not going to tell anyone to do anything to us!"  
  
"If they were going to do anything, they'd have done it before now." The sureness to Rhode Island's voice made everyone turn to him, suspiciously.  
  
"How do you figure?" New York demanded, folding up the newspaper.

Digging into one pocket, Rhode Island pulled out something small and waved it around so everyone could see. It was some sort of rosette, made up of white, brown, and blackish beads. "I got this from one of them. He had the chance to do something, he didn't, and in all this time, not one of them has done anything. They don't like us, but they're not going to harm us. They've had the opportunities, and keep _not_ taking them. We'll be _fine_."  
  
Pennsylvania was as surprised as her siblings to learn of this. She knew the prior personifications wanted nothing to do with the household, but she'd thought if any of her brothers or sisters had met one, they'd mention it. Then again, in a household were nothing was private, who wouldn't want something that was only theirs, if given that option?  
  
***  
  
They didn't see France anymore. They didn't see England. Newspapers implied horrible things about the French, then Canada came to see America and appeared more worried than America, which hinted the British had turned the tables.  
  
America made up answers on the spot when the children pressed him, always different ones, and never remembering what he'd last claimed. He kept losing track of how much time had passed.  
  
***  
  
On the third visit Netherlands paid their household, New York honestly thought Virginia was going to whore out their father in exchange for information.  
  
He was so busy glaring at his second father while Netherlands ruffled New Jersey's hair, and New Jersey smiled as the father she was just now meeting called her 'real cute,' that New York only registered Virginia's whisper of "Give us three minutes, then make Pennsylvania go into America's bedroom" because it was such an out of the blue thing to say. His older sister grabbed Netherlands's sleeve, and pulled the country toward the staircase. There to see America, Netherlands followed without question, ignoring how New Jersey pouted at how quickly Netherlands's interest in her had faded.  
  
Signaling to his younger sister to be quiet, New York followed his father and oldest sister, coming to a stop before America's bedroom, where the colony had been hiding from everyone.  
  
He heard Netherlands speak first. "Hey. Look at me! America, when did you last see England? Or France, even?"  
  
"It's been a long time. I don't know, exactly."  
  
"Was that France, or England?"  
  
"I don't remember, stop asking me questions!"  
  
New York looked into the room. Netherlands was standing in front of America, who was sitting on the bed, looking down at the floor as if wishing Netherlands would go away.  
  
Virginia gave America's arm a slight shove. "It was England, you _know_ it was him last here!" Her fingers fretfully gathered and twisted the fabric of her skirt, and her next words were to Netherlands, not America. "What did I tell you? He's been like this for a long time, and it's not getting better. What's going on? Where have any of you been? What the fuck has been happening to make America this out of sorts for so long?"  
  
Disturbed, Netherlands asked, "Who's been providing for all of you?"  
  
"We don't need England to get food, we've always been able to get that on our own. We can trade for other things. You didn't answer my question, what could possibly be making America--" Virginia deduced then what America never bothered telling any of his children. "You didn't know England hasn't been helping us." She looked to her father. "America...did you ever ask Netherlands for help?"  
  
So his other father wasn't purely an asshole. That was good to know. Remembering he was supposed to bring in Pennsylvania, New York crept to his own bedroom, and hissed at his sister to come out. He covered her mouth when she approached with questions, then led her to America's bedroom, opening the door wider. Pennsylvania hesitated (she wasn't allowed out when other people were around, so why was it okay now?) until Virginia gestured to her, to come to the bed.  
  
Netherlands gave a start at seeing the white-haired, red-eyed little girl who flitted into the room like a ghost.

Today's meeting brought the number of encounters between America and Netherlands up to three. They had two children together without knowing each other. New York had seen his father once, and seen the country show shock and dismay. Virginia had described Netherlands's demeanor as assertive. England had said Netherlands knew of New Jersey, but Netherlands displayed no remorse over not seeing his daughter before now, the same way he hadn't been guilty over New York, just stunned. And now...what finally was evoking shame in Netherlands was being made to understand there were multiple countries involved, _not_ supporting America while feeling free to use the colony.  
  
New York came into the room. What did Virginia intend to do now? They still knew nothing! She wouldn't make him and Pennsylvania leave their "mother" alone with Netherlands, would she? It was the only method of payment they had left, but how could they ask that of America?  
  
Virginia raised her hand, slightly, in New York's direction, in a hold-it-right-there order. Grimly, she took in Netherlands's newfound self-reproach, while wrapping her arms around Pennsylvania. "Netherlands, if we need to be doing something more than surviving, one of you need to come back and help."  
  
It was only a guilt trip, then. The household was so tense, lately, that New York really had been believing his sister would go to extreme measures, to find out what was going on.  
  
Staring at Pennsylvania--who stared back right back--Netherlands shook his head. "Yeah. The fighting...the fighting is in Europe also. I don't know when either France or England will be back here. There are people over here who...well...maybe it's best if I _show_ America to 'em." He seemed appalled by Pennsylvania, but Virginia narrowing her eyes at the country got him to stop gawking, and Netherlands grabbed America by the arm. "Let's go."  
  
***  
  
Governors of the colonies who didn't live in the colonies, deputy governors, lieutenant governors--why was Netherlands explaining all this? America was never going to be able to remember any of it!  
  
"Quit fidgeting." Bravado restored, Netherlands was sharp with America, as they waited for the current stand-in leader to return. The news had been a bit much for him. "By all rights, this guy _has_ to take care of you. Just let 'im handle everything."  
  
"Go ahead and say that, but they managed to _not_ do that long enough." Even the servants here were dressed better than him, and America wasn't one to care about clothing. He wanted to go home. "I still say that guy's name sounds like a dirty euphemism."  
  
"Will you act like an adult? Do you care about your household at all?"  
  
Being serious made America worry more. "It's your fault for telling me it!"  
  
"Stop being a child, I brought you here to meet the man, how could I keep you from not ever hearing his name?" Netherlands clouted America upside the head. Exactly as the governor came back into the room.  
  
Being thought of a child benefited America, in that he was pitied, more so when the other colonies were brought into the discussion (being referred to as America's younger brothers and sisters by Netherlands, who was not sure how much truth to reveal).  
  
"They'll want to meet with who's in charge of their land, will they not? I'll send out letters, to the other colony leaders, telling them about this. With the war, it's too dangerous for any of them to go anywhere, but I'm confident you and your brothers and sisters will be accommodated, in the future."  
  
***  
  
"That old man didn't help anything! He just as well should've said, 'Get out, I have better things to do, and maybe I'll pay attention to you later.' Idiot! More like, wait till someone else is in charge and make _them_ do something."  
  
America nodded along with Netherlands's grousing, but it was a weight off him, being put on a back burner like that--he hadn't known the leaders of places could just give orders. What if his children were taken away? America didn't want to be alone, even if his offspring only seemed to exist to irritate him, with their constant questioning and complaining.  
  
Netherlands gave America money, told him to keep bugging people until he met with the governor, and then the country left for Europe.

Privately, America decided to ignore Netherlands's instructions.  
  
***  
  
So much time had passed that it didn't feel real when England came back. With no apologies or explanations, he announced, "Good news, America! Canada's mine now, you can visit him whenever you want!"  
  
 _That_ was all he had to say, after all this time? America supposed how overwhelmed he was feeling must have looked like gratitude to England, who continued looking pleased with himself, but the reality was, America couldn't find any words for how badly he wanted to lash out at his guardian.  
  
Delaware came to America's side. "He and Canada saw each other all the time whether you were here or not. Canada being yours now changes nothing."  
  
England didn't like acknowledging the children who weren't his. "Get out of here!"  
  
"Only leaving because I don't want to be around _you_ ," Delaware muttered.  
  
"That brat's going to complain about me to my own children, now, just wait and see." England watched with great dislike as Delaware walked away. "America, can't you train them better?"  
  
"What happened to France?"  
  
"Never you mind. He's got a lot less land than before, and shouldn't be around, causing _decent_ people any trouble."  
  
***  
  
Whenever England was at the house after that--and he wasn't around much--all he did was worry about money.  
  
The children went from arguing about not knowing what was going on to arguing about England, like old times. Virginia defended England's absence, saying that he'd lost all his money protecting them from France and it was only appropriate that now he try and rebuild his finances. Most of her siblings said this gave England no right to ignore them and America some more, after all the ignoring he'd already done, and who was to say they wouldn't be better off with France as their guardian?  
  
America shushed all of them, as confused as ever. He just wanted a break from the never ending uncertainty.  
  
A brief escape came when Prussia arrived at the house a second time, offering to teach America to defend himself, and America found himself agreeing and leaving with the country without a word to the children. The interlude was a whirlwind of noise and activity. He used the things he'd learned, later on, so obviously he was paying attention, but mostly what America remembered was curiosity over why doing what Prussia commanded him to do wasn't as awful as Prussia had threatened it was going to be.  
  
"When does the hard part start?" America finally asked, after days of activity that took little effort for him to preform.  
  
Prussia stared at him in disbelief. "I've been yelling at you non-stop, insulting you, giving you exercises that should have you passed out with exhaustion! How are you keeping up with this? _I'm_ more tired than you!"  
  
America shrugged. His stint of learning to be a soldier was cathartic. When working so hard, he couldn't worry over everything.  
  
He came back to find the squabbling still going, so strongly that no one had realized he'd been gone. Eventually, it became less about England ignoring them and entirely about the new taxes and rules England's people were imposing on the colonial citizens.  
  
All the points made sense to America, even the ones disagreeing with each other. This paradox made his head hurt, and needing an escape from his household was what led to America meeting with his leaders.  
  
The deputy governors or lieutenant governors or whatever kind of governors they were didn't command America's memory, whenever he went to visit with them, but a high-ranking soldier did. Hearing the stories about George Washington, America was suitably impressed--then could only think this man was a year older than Georgia, the baby of America's children. It amused him, a little, as did he himself looking so much younger than Washington, but then with animosity toward the British escalating, America met more and more with the governor, the governor's people, and military men like Washington.

Washington was the only one who did not smile and nod at America and generally act like America was a big child who should be tolerated until he got bored and left the grown ups to talk things over. Washington expected America to pay attention. He questioned America, making sure the colony wasn't biding his time, waiting to be dismissed.  
  
"You're not half-witted, so stop acting like it. Looking like a youth is no excuse for not being the adult you are."  
  
It was these words that got through to America. He was told all the time to _act_ like an adult. No one had ever thought of him as one.  
  
***  
  
Dissent turned into battles. For a long time, America did not see England.  
  
He spent time with the governor, bringing Virginia along, mostly using her as distraction to try and trick his way into the fighting, in which he wasn't wanted--it was thought that it would be bad for morale if America was harmed. He managed it anyway, more than once, his heart racing the whole time he gripped his gun. Shooting at men who were trying to shoot him wasn't the same as stalking and shooting an animal, so why had he thought this wouldn't be difficult?  
  
Delaware ran off and joined the fighting. Then, as if miffed his youngest brother had thought of it first, New York left next. Going after them would have been impossible, so America worried and was thankful his other children looked too young for running away to work for them. Hoping to distract them from trying to do what their brothers had done, he told them they could go to their respective governors.  
  
They'd seen Virginia go about, back and forth, and envied the opportunities she was given. New Jersey and Pennsylvania were the first to go, New Jersey promising to stay with her little sister until she was sure Pennsylvania would be treated right. Georgia went off on her own. Others departed, till there were fewer and fewer of his children at the house every time America went back. He had an unhappy feeling over his children going, however, he worried less when thinking they each had a governor chaperoning them, and France and Spain were now supporting the fight against the British--America simply didn't have time to be with his children, and it wasn't fair expecting them to wait at home, doing nothing, until he returned.  
  
He felt better when he got word that Pennsylvania was becoming extremely popular, and he saw for himself that Virginia, thriving fast off individual attention, was soon able to read the letters her siblings sent and was writing back to them (her penmanship left a lot to be desired).  
  
The main worry was seeing England again.  
  
It was clear to America now that the things England had been doing to the people weren't right. America knew his relationship with England was built on power imbalances, had been unstable as hell, and had left America with too many children at too young an age. England hardly lifted a hand to help raise them. The majority of the ones who were his hated England; England pretended the ones who weren't his didn't exist. Even so...America wanted England around, for all the country's flaws. Surely, by now, America had matured enough that England would start seeing him as an equal. Things would be better once he _made_ England recognize that!  
  
Conflict had ended--or was on the way to ending--when America met England again. With England on his knees before him, proving America was no longer his, the haze over America lifted, and he felt despair when he should have been feeling elation.  
  
How could there be anything between him and England, after this?


	23. Chapter 23

Petulant conflict was twisting inside Canada.  
  
Across from him, America had lapsed into silence, bleary-eyed and still clutching Alaska. The baby was chewing on his own fingers while pressing one cheek against America's chest.  
  
It was neither the time nor the place, so Canada felt guilty for wanting to ask America if, during all his pining after England, he'd given one thought to how France siding with him made France--Canada's guardian before England--technically the enemy of Canada. It wasn't like America was the only one with problems! But it was the sort of thing where there was no way of asking without looking self-absorbed, and how could he could start asking, "What about me?" when America had been confused, overwhelmed, and caring for thirteen children? What kind of person would demand another give precedence to their sibling over their children?  
  
In Canada's arms, Hawaii was sleeping.  
  
What really galled Canada--if he was to be honest--was how everything came back to England, and America missing him, or wanting him, or _caring_ otherwise when he shouldn't have let the country set one foot near him after gaining independence! "Are your standards really so low that England coming back to you for hook-ups are all he needs to get a free pass?"  
  
"What's wrong with being friends with benefits? He's not the only one I have that arrangement with!"  
  
"You forgave him everything because he's a fuck buddy?"  
  
"What?" America was perturbed, then a trace of amusement lit up his face, making him look more awake. "When did I say he was forgiven? I didn't know anything in those days, what he did back then was fucked up, now I'm my own man. I can't ask him to do penance, he's a country, not a person. He got hit with his own shit along the way, he still can't have me all to himself, and if he seriously used magic on me, then _he_ set it up so he could never have me. Okay, there are flings, lots of them. Then I wind up with another state, who ends up hating England and England hates the kid. I think he hates every one of our kids except Virginia! They don't want him around, he doesn't want to be around them. It's a self-enforced punishment. _If_ there was a spell. And there probably wasn't!"  
  
It was nearly admirable how far America went to ignore a situation. "After fifty kids, you're still refusing to believe in magic? Then how do you explain all your states?"  
  
"I'm a fuckin' _super_ nation! I'm just so awesome I _made_ a way to pound biology in the face! _And_ make other nations go against it!"  
  
"What the goddamn fuck...?" The last part of that statement could have applied to the nations fathering America's children, but that left an exception that wasn't quite adding up. "Uh...isn't Mexico the only other country who's _had_ any of your states? Are you saying she's the only girl you've ever had sex with?"  
  
Too quickly, America protested, "I didn't say that!"  
  
Canada laughed as he watched his twin blush. "You so have! Does she know this? What, is she the only female in the universe who will let you do her?"  
  
America looked away, turning redder. "I just worry about what I could do to girls! She's the only one I feel safe screwing!"  
  
"So chivalrous."  
  
***  
  
He hadn't gone with his citizens to Europe, for the signing of the Treaty of Paris. This was remarked upon by the other countries, who could not think of why a new country would start things off by blatantly ignoring the politics of his people. Gossip settled into agreement that America "was just too much of a child" to be trusted in social settings.  
  
Still, the others were interested in him, as Washington reminded, when America stopped in at the man's home while visiting his children.  
  
"You'll want to meet with them sooner or later--preferably sooner. France and Spain aren't too taken with your lack of gratitude."  
  
The whereabouts of New York and Delaware couldn't be account for by America, and he couldn't stop worrying about both boys. "Lack of...? I did what they said to! How is that ungrateful?"  
  
"You did what they told you to, true, but you didn't stick around to celebrate with them. One might consider that part of the thank you."

It...sort of made sense. America didn't get _why_ that was important, but he had to admit, running off afterward without explanations to France and Spain hadn't been courteous either. That was one of the things America liked most about Washington--he broke down things which America wasn't clear on, and true to his claim that America wasn't a child, was willing to prod the country into thinking about the matter until America reached the answer on his own. "So I meet with them. I don't want to."  
  
"You have to eventually."  
  
"Them and everyone else." Grumpily, he stared over the porch railing, into the fields. He _was_ avoiding responsibility--well, half his responsibility.  
  
He had no idea where his oldest and youngest sons were, and he could get away with searching for them, which let him ignore the new leader he had, so long as he was being redirected between the new homes of his children. A president should have been less complicated than multiple governors, but those governors still counted, and if he should have a president, America would have liked Washington to be the one. Some of the Presidents of Continental Congress hardly seemed there long enough for America to remember if they had actually been his president, or if he was mixing up presidents with those of his citizens who had signed the Declaration of Independence.  
  
***  
  
The next time he checked in, Richard Henry Lee was his new boss and Spain and France were there to see Lee, wanting directions to America's home because they hadn't seen him in a suspiciously long time. It presented the worst timing possible, so America shouldn't have been surprised that after all his searching, his "missing" sons were right at their childhood home.  
  
"What the fuck did you bring them here for?" New York snarled, like it was just another day. The hug he gave his father was not normal, and even Delaware's affection was unusually fervent.  
  
"Where you two here the whole time?" America clung to both his sons, rejoicing over seeing them again.  
  
"We saw our own people, then we came here. Delaware was here when I got in."  
  
Wishing harder than ever that he didn't have to deal with France and Spain, America looked to them, and from the muttering the two were doing, America knew there was going to be trouble.  
  
"I've seen those boys before." There was accusation in France's words. Even in his serious moments, he managed to inject drama into his speech. Now his tone was flat.  
  
"You've seen them a lot of times." America caught New York staring in France's direction and covered his son's eyes. "Stop eyeballing France!"  
  
"Can you blame him?" The loftiness had France sounding like the country America knew, but there was still an awful lot of stiffness that told America he wasn't getting out of this one without answering more questions than he cared to.  
  
***  
  
He explained tersely, and at times, with help from New York and Delaware. France and Spain were mostly quiet. They kept giving each other looks, turning ill at ease by America's story.  
  
"And now?" Spain spoke to France, not America or America's sons. "You wanted answers. Feel better for knowing?"  
  
"Could it not have been a mistake?" The despondency with which France voiced this told he didn't believe there was any possibility of his proposal.  
  
"That's one hell of a long botch up! That many missed steps makes a single error in sense?"  
  
France, irritated, turned on Spain. "You say I should not have asked, now you say England was wrong?"  
  
"Damn right he was wrong for doing that! America was too young! What are we supposed to do though? He was England's colony. It wasn't on us to tell England what to do with who he owned. We can disapprove all we like, but there's nothing that can be done. Unless some war or another fight comes up, there'll be real trouble if any of us try to get revenge. If we start a ruckus over this, we tell all the other countries it's fine to throw down a fight over _any_ wrong, small or big."  
  
"Or imagined." America was thankful he had two of his children with him. He didn't want anyone going after England, but that didn't make it any better, hearing out loud the reality of the situation passed.  
  
France compulsively brushed the hair away from his face, yanking on it slightly in distress.

"This isn't the first horrible thing any of us has done." Spain sounded like he was working to convince France, and America was not sure why; France wasn't really disagreeing with what Spain was saying, even if he disliked it. "If England pays for this, all of us pay for our own sins. Do you want that? You're not without fault yourself! Are you ready to atone for everything?"  
  
Letting go of his hair and letting it curtain around his face, France mumbled, "Are you sure you're not just worried about America falling for one of your colonies? Your namesake lives right next to him. Suppose he takes a liking to her and would see her freed before allowing her to spend another moment under your ruling?"  
  
"My worries won't take away yours. I ask again, are you ready to atone for all you've done?"  
  
France let out a tiny exhalation. Looking up, he shook his head. "No. You know I can't. None of us can. It would mean disaster beyond imagining."  
  
Having France's concurrence did not please Spain; he shook off his sternness and gave way to gloominess.  
  
***  
  
After such a depressing pronouncement, neither France nor Spain could look America in the eyes. They left, and he was glad to see them go--he wanted to be with his sons, not entertaining other countries.  
  
Running his home kept him busy, going out on visits to his children gave him happy distraction, and when he could not avoid it, America paid calls on the current President, which always seemed to be a different one. Couldn't his people do something about that?  
  
Apparently, they could--it was decided the Articles of Confederation weren't the most beneficial means of unification of the colonies, so a replacement constitution came about, redistributing power to the government. This changed a collection of colonies to thirteen states obliged to obey the same system. It made more sense to America than trying to figure out thirteen separate groups, he'd have a president for longer than a year or a matter of months, and in better news, Washington was made the first President under the Constitution.  
  
Other countries came to see him, and America considered it a mark of maturity that he was able to meet with France and Spain without referencing their last meeting.  
  
The first nation meeting America attended was also one that had invited England. The older country brought along an embarrassed Canada and glared at America the whole time, willing America to screw up somehow. America did not. All in all, he thought he made a solid enough first impression, though maybe he'd talked too much. In his opinion, the rest of them needed to act less old and boring.  
  
***  
  
"And then you just took England back. As a friend with benefits. Like he had done nothing."  
  
"What's with the judging? I told you, it was more complicated than that." America looked down, saw that Alaska was still awake, and grabbed a rag off the table to wipe Alaska's mouth--the baby was drooling from gnawing on his fingers. "Do you have another tooth coming in? Is that why you're so grumpy?"  
  
"He's grumpy because you won't put him to bed."  
  
"Hey, who raised fifty states? You or me?" This fact would have been more impressive if not followed by an immense yawn from America. "Okay, maybe both of us should go to bed."  
  
"About time..."  
  
"But to make one thing clear," America started, standing up. "You're ignoring that England is the only one of everyone who keeps coming back. Not only for sex. He's taken care of states who weren't even his--how many of you can claim that? I don't consider anything he's done after that to be a small thing, and I really don't care what you think of his gestures. They mean a lot to me." He walked out of the kitchen, leaving Canada alone with Hawaii and unable to refute America's words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> America wasn't mistaken, about having Declaration signers as presidents. John Hancock, Samuel Huntington, Thomas McKean and Richard Henry Lee were four of the presidents before Washington, when the US was still thirteen colonies.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: uh, sibling incest? i guess? more graphic descriptions of childbirth

That reminder about England was an insult to Canada. The first (and last) time Canada had been with America to help with states he'd fathered, England had to come bail out Canada.  
  
***  
  
In the front room, a group of states argued over a card game (and ignored Canada when he tried to get their attention to find out where America was). The kitchen revealed food left out, the hallway had shoes scattered all over, and in neither of these places nor any of the other rooms did Canada find his brother. Then he heard another state talking, and following the voice ("So what if you throw it up? You're right in front of the toilet."), Canada found his brother in the upstairs bathroom.  
  
New York was sitting on the edge of the tub, holding a glass of water. Canada was optimistic about his presence; it could have been Virginia there, keeping America company, and embarrassingly, she intimidated Canada. Virginia--young as she was--had a way of speaking (and _glaring_ ) that made Canada feel under constant reprimand.  
  
But New York proved he was not going to be an improvement over his older sister. Sitting where he was, he noticed Canada when America could not. "What are you doing here? Don't you have work at home you should be doing? America doesn't have time to entertain you, he's sick as a dog!"  
  
"You don't need to spell it out, New York." America--as Canada could see when he walked closer to him--was ashen-faced. "I think it's obvious."  
  
Trying to hide from New York's disapproval, Canada got down on the floor, hugging his brother. "I heard the news. I can help you this time."  
  
The bathroom needed airing out. Even the blanket bunched around America smelled of vomit, and America radiated heat through his clothing as if feverish. His stomach, when Canada's hands rubbed over it, felt too big for someone who'd just found out another child was coming. Canada's confidence dwindled-- _was_ this state his? Maybe he'd guessed wrong. America wasn't speaking up, though, and the extent of internal adjustment America underwent to support a state was lost on Canada. Normal pregnancies shoved a woman's insides into different places; wouldn't the same happen for America--earlier even--since he had the opposite physical form?  
  
Appearing conflicted, New York glared at Canada. "So you're here this time because there's--"  
  
"New York, shut up! I don't need you speaking for me!"  
  
"But both those other times he was no where to be seen! Just because he's here this time, even under the circumstances, doesn't change him ignoring Michigan and Wisconsin!"  
  
It was true, Canada hadn't been there for either previous state. _Not_ his fault. He hadn't been told about Michigan, and only found out the boy was his through nation gossip, when other countries wondered, with Canada living so close by, why he never visited Michigan. Yes, Canada had been miffed finding out like that. And maybe he _should_ have been around more, especially when he'd found time to knock up America a second time, while he wasn't seeing Michigan. Lack of involvement with Wisconsin, _again_ , wasn't Canada's fault--hadn't America agreed with him that the timing of Wisconsin's birth was a bad time to come between America and the younger states? In the confusion of the aftermath of the Mexican-American War, America had been away too often from his children, fighting Mexico. It also wasn't Canada's fault that once things calmed down, both his sons were doing that same, "Who are you?" routine the rest of the states did.  
  
Unfairly, America mentioned none of this.  
  
"I'm gonna go see what everyone else is doing." New York sneered at Canada, then stomped away.  
  
"Why are all of them here?" This wasn't what Canada wanted answers for, but all the excuses he'd mentally been running through were falling flat. He felt guilty and worse, agreed with New York. Being on the scene for the third occasion he'd fathered an upcoming state of America's _didn't_ make up for the previous times.  
  
America pulled away from Canada, hunching over the toilet. "It's their childhood home. They can be here whenever they want." He didn't tell Canada the states had more of a right to be here than Canada, but Canada worried his brother was thinking that.  
  
***

Canada had not actually considered that his presence might not be appreciated, when he decided being there would atone him. He hadn't even consulted his twin. Guilt kept common sense from kick starting, no matter how many signs of discouragement were tossed Canada's way, and he wound up in a very long, very awkward waiting game.  
  
***  
  
America was miserable and slept on the bathroom floor more than in his bedroom. He didn't want to know what the states were doing. The way everyone smelled, he claimed, except New York, made him feel sicker than he already was.  
  
New York was angry that Canada was there, and if asked anything by his uncle, would give the answers instead to Pennsylvania.  
  
The other states were surly. Canada had hoped to charm them and get back in his brother's good graces through this feat, but of their own choice or under orders from New York, the states refused to acknowledge their uncle. They kept up rotations of who was at the house, gambling, and almost every time Canada looked in the front room, there was a different group.  
  
As he waited, hoping he could be useful somehow, Canada thought about leaving. The idea of that was worse than the awkwardness he was feeling, so Canada stayed on, feeling in the way.  
  
***  
  
The illusion of time standing still was shattered by America's stomach.  
  
He'd looked big when Canada first got there, and, of course, America only got bigger as time passed. Canada had not been able to work up the nerve to ask if the state was his; the question, no matter how Canada worded it, sounded like he was calling his brother a slut, and America was so uncharacteristically listless that Canada was afraid of insulting him. Canada tried being supportive, sitting with his brother when he wasn't ordered out of the bathroom, and giving America back rubs, but most of the time, America didn't want to be touched.  
  
The few times he had the energy to make it back to his bedroom and flop into bed, America was too exhausted to tell Canada to go away, and Canada could touch his brother all he wanted. He was both horrified and fascinated as he prodded America's lumpy stomach. "It's like your skin's gonna rip apart."  
  
"It feels that way." America winced, rubbing his lower ribcage. "Three more months, and there's already no room left. It's going to be hell even if they don't make it full term, and none of my states go the full nine months."  
  
"They?" Canada's hand went still. A foot pressed back urgently, protesting the sudden pressure.  
  
"You didn't think it was one?" America stared at Canada. "You did! Seriously? I'm this huge, this early on, and you didn't think that was out of the ordinary? My boss spoke of approving _four_ states--"  
  
Canada felt sickened.  
  
"--and I was hoping it would go back-to-back sets of twins, but there's definitely more than two in here." He winced again, at the same time that Canada felt a very strong kick from one of the states. "Fuckin' brats. They keep sticking their hands and feet between my ribs. It feels like they're breaking them. Or at least bruising them."  
  
Knowing what bruised and broken ribs felt like, Canada moved his hands, hoping to ease some of America's discomfort by prodding the babies into less painful positions. He'd thought his brother was keeping to the bathroom because of nausea, when really, even keeping still, the states were doing a number on America and exhausting him. He must have felt both stretched and crushed, with four of them going at him non-stop, and just thinking how his brother's insides were being squished thoroughly grossed out Canada.  
  
***  
  
Pennsylvania was the only state who spoke to Canada, and definitely the only one to show him any kindness. She gave him updates about America, after talking to New York, on the days Canada didn't see his brother--whether America was feeling better or sicker that particular day, if he'd eaten adequately, whether or not he'd made it out of the bathroom.  
  
"You're aware New York hates you, right?"  
  
Standing outside the front room, Canada had figured out most of the states in the current game. So many of America's children were blond that it could get hard distinguishing who was who. "Does he?" He assumed this was some sort of build up to Pennsylvania trying to say her big brother wasn't a dick.

"He hates you and Mexico both." Pennsylvania stood at Canada's side, her red eyes fixed on her siblings.  
  
"Why is that?" Idly, Canada thought of how awfully close Pennsylvania's hair and eyes were to matching Prussia's. If Canada didn't know better, he'd have sworn the girl was the nation's child.  
  
"You and she border him."  
  
"And...?" Those red eyes were kind of pretty, if one could get past the strangeness of them and how disturbingly devoid of color they made the rest of Pennsylvania look.  
  
"Meaning you both should know better than anyone, about getting involved with America like that. It's different with the other countries. They're not _connected_. Anyway, New York hates _you_ most. You're America's brother and Mexico's just the former flame America won't stop rendezvousing with."  
  
Canada shrugged. "That makes sense. I've never considered Mexico to be my sister and I've never known America to think the same." If the revelation was meant to hurt him, it wasn't working.  
  
Pennsylvania turned and walked off.  
  
Watching her leave, Canada belatedly understood then that Pennsylvania, the nice, sweet one of America's states, the only one speaking to Canada--had been telling him to leave. "She wants me gone as much as New York does."  
  
Ten feet away from him, the states in the front room finished their round, with a furious accusation from West Virginia that Nevada had rigged the game. Colorado snapped at both her brothers to shut up as she took over dealing the cards.  
  
***  
  
Had Pennsylvania been dropping hints all this time? Canada suspected so.  
  
He was sure of Pennsylvania being more than a go-between for her brother when New York, in an inexplicable uproar, packed up and left--and took his siblings with him. Canada was smug, thinking he'd won the fight, until more days passed of America wanting to be left alone, and Canada realized that New York had been the only one able to bully America into eating.  
  
"Will you just fuck off? They're not going to die if they've made it this long, and if I force anything down, I'm gonna puke."  
  
Canada kept pushing chicken broth and bread on America, but a frightening amount of the time, America only seemed to be existing off water. Countries were capable of starving without dying, and Canada supposed the same went for states, but he didn't like it and he couldn't stop worrying, even when he'd watched America enough to know his brother was right. Because of the crowding going on inside him, sometimes America wasn't able to keep down even water.  
  
***  
  
America went from lethargic to nervous and resentful, as his due date crept closer. Not a moment passed where he didn't have the feel of acid rising in his throat. The babies ran out of room to the point where they couldn't move anymore and this scared America. He kept pressing against his stomach, feeling for all four heartbeats. He was annoyed by Canada but needed his assistance if he wanted to move about--his balance was too thrown off to get by on his own.  
  
"We are never fucking again," America told Canada tersely, after yet another day passed of being trapped in the bathroom. Every time it seemed safe to leave, America had been hit by the urge to vomit or piss.  
  
"Fine." Canada wasn't about to argue. They didn't have sex that often and when they had, they'd gotten carried away when sharing the same bed on a cold night or while they were roughhousing. After witnessing this, Canada never wanted to inflict another pregnancy on anyone.  
  
***  
  
With more than a month left, America went into labor. He assured Canada that early deliveries were normal, especially with multiples, but Canada was a nervous wreck. He did everything America asked, helping his brother into the bathroom, getting towels, bringing water, then standing by, doing nothing, because America didn't want Canada rubbing his back or holding his hands.

It was horrible. Watching the delivery was worse than anything Canada had been fearing. There were hours-long stretches where nothing happened. During this time, Canada was convinced something was dreadfully wrong, but talking irritated America, so Canada shut up and freaked out quietly, taking details from the blood running down America's thighs to the way America kneeled with his arms over the side of the bathtub, holding himself up, as sure signs of impending death. Whenever Canada started to calm, America was hit with pain that wracked his whole body in ways Canada had only seen from people in death throes from illness or injury. There was nothing Canada could do to help. He found himself assuming the worst at every whimper or groan coming from his brother.  
  
Why was it taking so _long_? "Isn't it supposed to be shorter, with the more children you have?"  
  
"If you're a woman."  
  
"But if your body adjusts--"  
  
"I don't have a fucking twat, Canada, and you've fucked me enough times to know that!"  
  
"Should I shut up?"  
  
America only gripped the edges of the bathtub harder, groaning.  
  
That was not an answer to Canada's question, but he had a feeling he should probably shut up anyway, and this was unfortunate, because Canada had no idea what was going on, or if there was something he should be doing in the meantime, while waiting on the babies. He panicked silently, hating himself for being so useless, then the noises his brother was making changed, and Canada worked up the nerve to look at his brother's ass, which he'd been avoiding doing. Seeing it made him wish he hadn't looked; being spread apart like that wasn't supposed to happen to a backside. He was too horrified to look away, and could only watch as America's body tried forcing out the states, flesh visible under the blood and mucus, growing into a larger circle with each push then diminishing whenever America stopped.  
  
It may have been a long time. It may have been that hardly any time passed and it only felt like an eternity. Canada, transfixed on his brother's arduous efforts, grew convinced there was no way any of the babies were coming out, if all the pushing America was doing wasn't speeding things up.  
  
"Oh. Fuck. Goddamn." America was shaking. "Canada, get a towel. Fucking now!"  
  
"And do _what_?" But Canada saw why--one of the babies was crowning, actually coming out finally, and he supported it as the head poked out, then it was pushed all the way out and into Canada's hands, twitching. It was gross. _So_ gross. Was the umbilical cord supposed to be bright fucking blue like that?  
  
Between gasps, America asked, "Is it alright? Is it a boy or a girl?"  
  
Canada was afraid he was going to drop the baby. "Shouldn't it be crying? It's just screwing up its face. Why isn't it crying? I don't know what's wrong!"  
  
"It's fine. Tie some string around the cord, and once it goes white, cut it. The baby can be wrapped in a towel and--" America's word stopped. He exhaled, went ashen, then gagged, into the bathtub.  
  
Listening to his brother vomit made Canada forget what America had said, until the baby in his hands stretched, reminding him it had needs. Canada got the cord tied off and the baby wrapped, then placed it on the floor, before turning back to his brother. "Is this much blood normal?"  
  
"What did we have?"  
  
"I...I didn't check." Should he now? The baby was within reach; the placenta hadn't been delivered, so the child couldn't go far, without the cord severed.  
  
America grunted.  
  
Thinking the placenta was coming, Canada wondered if he should waste a towel on this--and baby number two ended up being born into Canada's bare hands. While he was dealing with the latest child, the placenta came on its own, turning out to have been shared by both babies. The states were lying side by side, miserably squirming, and the only sound in the room was America's hard breathing, as he shivered and waited.  
  
"Dammit," he said sharply, after so long a wait that the words made Canada jump. America pressed a hand to his stomach. "It's stopped. No fucking way. Why the hell aren't they all coming now?" He lowered his head, and for a terrifying instant, Canada thought his brother was crying, but unbelievably, America then awkwardly struggled to his feet.

Stunned, Canada watched his brother leave the bathroom, as the twins continued being unhappy and helpless, on the bathroom floor.  
  
***  
  
It was another week before the second set of twins was born. Canada only knew they'd arrived when he awoke from a catnap beside the bed the first set of twins lay on to find four babies there, not two.  
  
America was resentful beyond belief. He kept to his bedroom, refusing to see the babies. Canada, paranoid about leaving the states alone, was so busy changing diapers and using a rag to drip milk into tiny, protesting mouths that he barely had time to meet his own needs. He was in constant fear. All four boys were so tiny they couldn't cry properly. They never opened their eyes. Canada was certain if he didn't watch over the babies as they slept, one of them would die. They seemed too fragile to even hold.  
  
He worried so much over the states that he was unable to feel afraid for or angry at America.  
  
***  
  
Why England showed up one day, Canada did not know, but he was so happy to see the country that he just clung to England. "Thank God you're here!"  
  
"What is going on?" England shoved Canada off, gripping him by the arms and staring like he could assess the situation by looking into Canada's eyes.  
  
Canada led England to the babies. England eyed them, asked, "Where is America?", got blankets, and wrapped the babies up so they were in two big bundles. "Why is America not with them?"  
  
"He won't leave the bedroom." Feeling like a child caught doing something wrong, Canada stammered. "He's been there since having these four, and I can't get him to do anything."  
  
"Wants his body back to himself, I suppose." England considered both sets of twins, while Canada felt weird, though he wasn't sure why. He was distracted by the states growing peaceful, and dazed, Canada thought he should have come up with an idea like that, keeping them closer together, if he wasn't holding them.  
  
England picked up one bundle. "You take the others. America won't take care of them? We'll bring them to him. He can leave, but he won't have his bed."  
  
Canada numbly went along. In the bedroom, America was lying on his front, sleeping or just reveling in being able to lie on his front again--throughout the pregnancy, he'd had to lie on his sides due to the babies.  
  
"Oi, America!"  
  
Rolling over in confusion, America sat up. "England? What are you doing here?"  
  
England shoved the babies at America, who accepted them automatically, as well as the ones England took from Canada's arms. Wrapped as the babies were, America could hold them all. He cooed at them as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn't been hiding from them or ignoring everyone. "Hi, little guys!"  
  
Canada was aware of England's arm around him, England realizing what Canada was now realizing--he'd been played by his twin. Nothing was wrong. America _wasn't_ angry. He'd just been making the most of having another caretaker.  
  
"If it helps, I would have done the same thing as him," England said. "Even with only one, I'd have made sure I got revenge on whoever did that to me."  
  
***  
  
"And then I took off. England was nice to me, made it clear he was helping out and not taking over, and I turned the situation into such that he _had_ to take over." Canada had used the excuse of England fathering twins on America too closely after Canada's four as means to avoid North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, and Washington. Which, instead of atoning, had Canada repeating his mistakes. He'd upped his own strikes by taking out his issues with America on _six_ states, not two. "How did I ever think I had good reason for doing the things I did?"  
  
Fast asleep, Hawaii made a poor audience. This suited Canada; talking out loud to someone who couldn't pick apart his words was as good a way as any to regain perspective.  
  
Maybe he could do right by his brother another way. America was obviously overwhelmed, and concerning Russia, America really didn't sound convinced keeping Alaska away was the best course of action.  
  
What would be a better peace offering than allowing Russia visitation under the supervision of a country who _wasn't_ America?


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: childbirth again, postpartum sex

"Why didn't I quit while I was ahead?"  
  
Defending England was detrimental. There were other ways of getting Canada to shut up, without America refreshing his twin's memory of how he'd been jerked about during that "mercy visit" in 1889. America wasn't sorry, he was worried he'd just squashed all of Canada's sympathy.  
  
Four babies were too many even for a powerhouse like himself. "I only wish I could have been harsher to your uncle," he whispered into Alaska's hair. The baby was asleep on America's front. Two months earlier, they'd been sitting exactly like this, while awaiting Hawaii's birth.  
  
***  
  
Alaska made the silliest faces, when feeling his unborn sister's movements. "Does that confuse you? Are you getting your little butt kicked already? Get used to it, all your sisters probably are going to torment you."  
  
"I'll torment _you_ , if you don't let us watch _Gunsmoke_ ," New Mexico threatened.  
  
"There might be breaking news. I don't want you changing the channel."  
  
Arizona walked up behind the couch and hung over the back, watching her father bottle-feed Alaska. "Texas said the government is cock-blocking the people from knowing what's really going on, and Nevada said all the news is a load of scare tactics and not to be believed."  
  
"Why is Texas using cock-blocking to describe the news? Does he even know what cock-blocking is?"  
  
New Mexico had a fairly bad grasp on rhetoric. "All of us know what cock-blocking is. Mommy told us it's what happens when anyone stops you from whoring around."  
  
It worried America, how often his daughter deadpanned whatever she was saying. Maybe he should have a word with Utah and Colorado, and get some states invited to the house who weren't the usual crowd New Mexico was exposed to, because her siblings and Spain's children thought New Mexico was hilarious and weren't about to start correcting their little sister's behavior. "I can't talk to my boss, and you know that. What the people have is all I have, for now."  
  
Arizona was still on the back of the couch, sort of like a kitten clinging to a screen door. "Why don't you make Virginia take your place? It's not going to create more questions than you _not_ being at meetings all the time, and you could make up some story like you can't stand the sight of Russia, so you're sending someone else in your place, and at the same time, be insulting him. Everyone would believe that!"  
  
She was right, but America mulishly didn't want anyone filling in for him.  
  
"It's because he means to go right back to his boss as soon as the new state is born." Colorado had walked into the room, along with Utah. "Am I right?"  
  
"What are you going to do with Hawaii and Alaska?" Utah asked. "You don't want people knowing about them, so you can't take either with you. Are you going to leave them here?"  
  
"With the states who look like six-year-olds?" Colorado interrupted.  
  
"Unless he intends for us to stay and take care of them." Utah gave his father a suspicious look. "Was that the plan?"  
  
And America thought New Mexico was weird. Utah dressed like he was going to church every day, and he complained about his brothers and sisters so-called "impropriety" more than West Virginia, who, before Utah, had been the winner of biggest wet blanket within the family. "If I'm planning something, I'll tell you when I want you to know." The next state was technically due in another month, and America thought it only a matter of days before she was born, if his backaches and cramps were anything to go by.  
  
It was Texas who had given America the idea of disappearing, while pregnant--the boy was the same personification the land had, for country and state. America hoped, with no reason to believe otherwise, that his boss was under the impression the native personifications of Alaska and the Kingdom of Hawaii were going to continue being the physical embodiments of the land, now that both places were states.  
  
The twins--who had been the babies of the family for a long time--found Alaska to be an adorable novelty, and were excited at also getting a baby sister in the deal. They had never thought their father was going to leave the new siblings with them. "You can't leave," Arizona protested.

"Yeah, you were supposed to stay with us." New Mexico seemed upset, and this was unusual with her. "You've only been reading newspapers, listening to the radio, and watching the news, were you just using my house? You didn't want to be with us at all?"  
  
The worst thing about his states not aging as they should was that they could use their cuteness as weapons. America was cornered, trapped on the couch with Alaska, and as both girls approached him, adorably disappointed, he couldn't get away.  
  
"Another thing," Colorado brought up.  
  
"What?" America was sure he wasn't going to like this.  
  
Utah cleared his throat. Pretentious little brat. So _what_ if he, while looking below double digits in age, managed to appear more professional than America ever had in all his existence? "You're getting obsessed with the news."  
  
Momentarily, America was dumbstruck. Then he smiled. "Really? Obsessed? We're being told the Soviet Union's going to kill all of us any day now, I can't get _real_ news to find out the truth, and you're saying me wanting to know what's going on is acting obsessed?"  
  
Picking newspapers off the floor, Colorado compared the stories. "You have six different papers on the same thing."  
  
"I was comparing accounts!"  
  
Utah tilted his head slightly. "You have the radio on, the television on, and all these newspapers out."  
  
"Multi-tasking!"  
  
The twins were cuddling against him. Alaska was done eating, hiccuping now and looking content. Dammit! It was all their fault he was quickly losing motivation to go back to his research.  
  
"Can we watch _Gunsmoke_ , Daddy?" New Mexico petted her little brother's hair.  
  
Arizona brushed her pigtails away from her face. "Please, Daddy?"  
  
America sighed. "Colorado, change the channel, will you?"  
  
She complied, and sat down on the couch with him, the baby, and the twins, pulling Arizona into her lap. Utah turned off the radio and collected the rest of the newspapers, discreetly taking them out of the house.  
  
***  
  
His children found more ways of keeping America from the news. There were always programs the girls didn't want to miss. Utah wanted to read without the distraction of the television or radio. Newspaper subscriptions went missing, or were taken before America could get his hands on them. Colorado, saying the radio sounded tinny, took it out into the garage, didn't bring it back, and America, hugely pregnant, didn't feel like searching out in the heat for it.  
  
"So how long are you guys going to keep this up?" America asked, after Colorado and Utah "forgot" to buy the newspapers he wanted.  
  
"You should be avoiding stress." Colorado unpacked the grocery bags. There was canned tuna for America, who had been craving it with obnoxious urgency, cheese and bread for the twins, who lived off grilled cheese when allowed, and disposable diapers for Alaska (Hawaii would be in cloth diapers until she was big enough that disposable diapers wouldn't fall off when put on her). "The news? Is stressful. It isn't just Utah and I who think you should be avoiding this. I've been making some calls, and Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Nevada, and California _all_ think you should take a break from the news."  
  
How had he not noticed that? "You've been calling that many of your brothers and sisters?"  
  
"No, I've called _all_ of them." Smirking, Colorado folded the emptied bag. "And if you don't agree to doing it, the others are going to come here and _keep_ you from finding anything out."  
  
He could have stopped them. Quite easily. But it would tedious and time-consuming and being so far along with the latest state, America just didn't want to fight with his children. "You win. I'll stop watching the news."  
  
"And _listening_ to the news. And _reading_ the news."  
  
Rolling his eyes impatiently, America nodded in agreement. "Those, too. Until I have Hawaii."  
  
"No." Colorado's gaze went steely. "You'll go on a voluntary news ban while you're taking care of the new baby, too. She and Alaska deserve better parenting than you being distracted and doing everything half-ass."  
  
***  
  
Agreeing to all this pissed off America, but his children were right, the news _had_ been too stressful, and it did America good to stop and do things instead with his kids.

He watched westerns with his girls and, remembering his own western expansion, told them stories, which enthralled them and even Utah would join them, listening (he refused to watch anything). The twins asked questions about caring for their baby brother, Colorado and Utah asked home repair questions.  
  
The four were a welcomed distraction, as America waited on Hawaii.  
  
***  
  
What helped when he was pregnant and housebound turned back into an irritation when America was dying for news from reliable sources. In the house in Virginia, he did a count. "I've gone two months, following their request. Six weeks of which _was_ after Hawaii got here."  
  
So, leave the babies with one of their siblings, or keep to the agreement? America didn't like lying to his states. He didn't need any of them angry with him, he already had plenty of countries irritated--he'd cleared things up with Japan, but not with Mexico, and a lot of nations were probably irked at not being able to contact him. Who knew how things were going to play out between him and Russia, if America did rejoin his boss. And what of everyone who was siding with Russia?  
  
***  
  
One had to credit Mexico's patience--the breaking point, for her, was America letting Japan fuck him only days after Alaska's traumatic birth.  
  
She had not been happy to see America, when she let herself into her Chicago home one evening, having just gotten off work. Mexico was even less happy to learn America was pregnant with Russia's baby and wanted to stay there for the pregnancy. "This isn't a white neighborhood, America."  
  
He shut the front curtain. "Exactly why no one will come looking here."  
  
"I'm gonna get my ass kicked, anyone sees a white man in my apartment. _You're_ gonna get your ass kicked, people see you. What, are you gonna fight your own citizens?"  
  
"No one will see me. I'll stay inside."  
  
Helplessly, Mexico stared at him, her eyes lowering to America's stomach. "Russia? Goddammit, America. I'm _friends_ with Russia, you want me to help hide his kid?"  
  
"You hear the news, don't you? Do you really want your children losing their baby brother? Because if the Soviet Union knows about this state, that could happen." Smugly, leaning against the stove, America watched as Mexico stomped about the tiny kitchen, slamming things around. She had his back--if she wasn't going to help him, he would have been thrown out already. "New Mexico and Arizona _really_ are excited about getting a little brother."  
  
Mexico flinched, hearing the names of her youngest daughters. "Fuck. Fine, you can stay. I want you out of here before the baby's born. You can be hidden, a crying baby can't." She reached for her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, shaking one out.  
  
They knew each other so well that element of surprise was all one needed to ensnare the other. Pleased that things were going his way, America kissed Mexico, then seeing how her hands were unsteady, lit her cigarette for her.  
  
***  
  
Things were calm. They were boring. Nothing happened, which was exactly what America was counting on. He knew Mexico was a workaholic by nature, and any time she was living in the United States, it was because she'd found multiple jobs to work. She was gone too often to question America too much, she brought back whatever food he was craving, and she was affectionate with him whenever she was at the apartment, which kept America from being too lonely. He tried following the news using her radio and the newspapers she brought back from the hotels (Mexico had no tv, she used the apartment to sleep, shower, or grab a meal between work shifts).  
  
He thought about Russia, and what he would do after having Alaska, and America could never come up with a straight answer.  
  
***  
  
Nervously chain-smoking one morning, waiting for the coffee to be ready, Mexico asked America something that he himself had been wondering: "If that baby is Russia's, won't it be huge? What if you have trouble having it?"  
  
Her asking this was all America needed to know Mexico wasn't going to hold him to her deadline of "before the baby's born."

Catching his nervousness, Mexico inhaled deeply, holding in the smoke for a contemplative moment, before slowly exhaling. "I know people. At the hotel. I'll ask around, use my connections. There are people there who really like me."  
  
***  
  
The Demerol Mexico was supplied with and taught how to inject was to keep America quiet, more than spare him pain. He didn't care; all that mattered was that this delivery wasn't going to hurt like hell like all the others had.  
  
It worked--just not how America thought it would. Losing all lower feeling definitely make it impossible to feel pain, and for an added bonus, when the drug fully kicked in, America found himself not caring about the sudden paralysis. He remembered Mexico hissing orders at him, then her hands were on him, before America passed out. Hours later, fear came to him when America woke up alone, in the dark, lying in his own blood, not knowing if little Alaska was alive or dead, not knowing where Mexico was.  
  
Had she gone back on her word, and taken the baby to give to Russia?  
  
He was thirsty, couldn't move, couldn't call for help. Maybe he'd died and gone to hell.  
  
Mexico came into the room. "You're awake! Thank God..."  
  
She gave him some water, then cleaned him up for what, according to her words, was the third time--"You kept bleeding, with that and you not moving, I...I must have overdosed you. I'm sorry. Shit, I'm sorry. I am _so_ sorry."  
  
He should have told her not to worry, he wasn't dead and he'd regained all feeling, so the damage would mend itself. He wanted to know about the baby. "Alaska?"  
  
"He's fine." Mexico folded another towel under America. "He's cute, he's...well, big. America, he weighed over nine pounds." She sat on the bed next to him, stroking his hair. "But he's adorable, you'll see, I'll bring him to you."  
  
She had to hold the baby to him. America felt too weak to safely cradle his new state. True to Mexico's word, the baby was precious beyond belief; little Alaska was the first baby America carried long enough to not be born underweight and skinny. None of the babies he'd had were cute from the start, and of the five Mexico had given him, Colorado and Utah had been the only attractive newborns.  
  
America felt asleep with the baby on him, and when he awoke next, the baby was curled up on the bed beside him and Mexico was talking to someone on the phone. Calling in sick at work? That wouldn't need such a long conversation. Feeling a little better, America patted Alaska, watching proudly as the baby snuffled in his sleep without waking.  
  
Walking back into the room, Mexico asked, softly, "Do you want anything?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Okay, good, I'm tired." She settled onto the other side of the bed, the baby between them. America thought Mexico looked regretful as she watched Alaska.  
  
***  
  
Generally speaking, when one of your lovers is caring for you to the point of wiping your ass for you, it is bad etiquette to let them catch you in their bed, having sex with someone else. To magnify this insult, Mexico had been feeding America's baby while America was pulling Japan into the bedroom. America was certain the only thing stopping Mexico from punching him and Japan both was that she was still holding Alaska when she walked in on them.  
  
Calling Japan a vile motherfucker, Mexico turned on America, incensed when he laughed at her unintentionally fitting insult, and screamed at him in Spanish that he was an asshole. She locked them into the bedroom and called Canada.  
  
America thought about asking through the door for Alaska. He then considered Japan. "Want to fuck me again?"  
  
"I only came here because I did not believe Mexico." Japan was mortified. "I swear to you, I did not come here for this purpose!"  
  
"Guess that's a no." Sinking onto Mexico's bed, America winced as his ass made contact with the mattress. "Well, I'm sure once was fine."  
  
***  
  
Interesting times...  
  
It startled America when Canada walked into the room, past him, to the armchair across from the couch. Canada sat down carefully, paying too much attention to Hawaii, who was asleep, and America prepared himself for the worst. "If you're going to ask more questions--"  
  
"America, I wasn't much help the times before, and I want to make up for that now!"

This wasn't what America was expecting. Canada hadn't even gotten mad, thinking about their last four states?  
  
Looking absurdly pleased with himself, Canada rambled on, albeit quietly, so as not to awaken Hawaii. "You've had to worry for two years, about Russia, right? But you let Japan see Hawaii. So this isn't a fuck-you to Russia, even though you said it would be crazy to trust Russia with a baby. You really are just acting out of concern, aren't you?"  
  
"...I am?"  
  
"Which doesn't _have_ to mean keeping Russia and Alaska apart. What if Russia could see Alaska without _you_ having to see Russia?"  
  
If Canada was offering what America thought he was, it was very brave of him; Canada found Russia scary and would not visit him unless absolutely having to. Appeasing Russia, though, was not at all a concern of America's. How did Canada miss that he _did not want Russia knowing Alaska existed?_  
  
But...Canada had no way of knowing.  
  
No where in America's nervous over share had he explained to his twin that he was hiding _Alaska_ , not using the boy to hurt Russia, and in hiding Alaska, America had to hide Hawaii. Her land's previous personification remaining would have aroused suspicion. Displaying the same old 'I hate Russia!' fervor would make a person think America was only reciting propaganda. His main worry was going to look like he felt bad for not being able to tell the father of his child that he had a child.  
  
"Don't answer right away! Think it over. Get some sleep, let's talk in the morning, give your answer then. Just...think on it, okay?" Canada waited, hopefully.  
  
"Sleep. Yeah. Give me Hawaii, I want her and Alaska both with me. I'm used to it." Holding his states, America felt pity for his twin, who thought he was sincerely helping. "In the morning, we'll talk. 'Night."  
  
***  
  
Feeling that he'd done a good deed--even if the deed had yet to be done--Canada fell asleep effortlessly.  
  
There was full sunlight in the guest room as he awoke. Canada stretched, wondering if his brother had slept in. It was late, so probably not. He should have woken Canada, he would have helped with Alaska and Hawaii. His track record was pretty terrible, but hadn't he just gotten done telling America how much he _wanted_ to help? And he'd done a good job with Hawaii, yesterday!  
  
Energized and ready to go, Canada bounded the steps--and instantly knew something was wrong.  
  
It was too quiet. And too _clean_. The clutter that two babies created, that showed they lived here, was gone. Canada slowly walked down the hallway, looking in rooms, and all evidence that America had two extra children had vanished. The crib was gone, the playpen wasn't in the front room anymore. There were no tiny clothes, no toys. The bottles were gone from the kitchen. Canada opened the back door, going to the garage.  
  
The crib and playpen had been stored in there, under tarps. The car was gone.  
  
Wondering if he'd gone crazy and imagined everything, Canada wandered back into the house, coming to a standstill in the kitchen. On the counter, he found a bottle of cough syrup. Emptied. Its presence mocked Canada.  
  
"He drugged Alaska." Hawaii was so little she would just stay in the backseat, when laid there, but a toddler wouldn't keep still long and while playing, might fall onto or be too rough with a nearly newborn sibling, despite not meaning to. Better to feed him a medication causing drowsiness, make a bed for him and the younger baby, and keep the older sleeping for the duration of the drive.  
  
Canada's sense of guilt had several times before blinded him from common sense, concerning his own children. Now it was happening with children who weren't his. Again, he'd offered what he thought would help, without thinking if it was what America needed.  
  
***  
  
It did not come entirely as a surprise to Canada when America was at the next nation meeting, picking a fight with Russia and irritating other countries to make up for lost time. Canada didn't even try asking his twin what he'd done with Alaska and Hawaii. He was pretty sure this time, America wasn't going to give him answers so easily.


End file.
